Now, Jane

by Jane L.S.

 

Part II: Friday Night

When I neared the bottom of the stairway I saw Lydia sitting on the living room couch with her legs curled up, flipping through a magazine, wearing a man's white button-down shirt and seemingly nothing else. I paused at the foot of the stairway to gaze at her – at her supple legs and shapely torso; at her distinctive face with delicate lips and thin nose and high cheekbones and green-gray eyes that crossed slightly when she became excited; at the lustrous dark brown hair that framed her face and rested lazily on her shoulders.

She glanced up, saw me staring, flashed her wickedly crooked smile and said: "Come here."

I walked over and stood at the end of the low cocktail table that fronted the couch.

"Were you staring at me?" she asked as she put down the magazine.

"Er, ah, yes, Mistress Lydia. I was," I said, lowering my eyes.

"No, that's all right, you may look at me now. But why were you staring at me? That's very impolite, you know."

"Because I, uh, had not had the privilege and pleasure of seeing you at all today, Mistress, because I was blindfolded the whole time."

"Yes, so you were." She shifted her position on the couch. I caught a glimpse of pale blue panties beneath the shirt she wore and noticed that the shirt was one of mine. "Did you enjoy the afternoon's activities?"

"Yes, Mistress. It was a very, uh, stimulating experience for me."

"I can't argue with that. … So, how do those panties fit?"

"Fine, Mistress."

"Not too tight?"

"No, Mistress."

"Let me see. Open up."

I undid the sash of the electric-blue kimono-style robe that barely reached the top of my thighs and held it open to show her the bright yellow bikini panties, in which my penis had begun to stir from its softness.

"Hmmm, maybe they do fit you just right," she said. "Now turn around."

I did and lifted the kimono up, exposing my pantied rear.

"They fit your ass really nice. Speaking of which, how are your cheeks? Still tingling?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Let me see. Bend over and pull your panties down."

I complied.

"Oooh, still nice and pink, the way a slave's ass should be after a good spanking. What color do you think your sissy butt would be after a caning, or maybe a nice flogging?"

"I don't know, Mistress."

"We'll find out, won't we? Now that's enough. Pull your panties up, fix your kimono and turn around."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now, Jane, I'm getting a little hungry. There's a selection of salads and some other things from the gourmet shop in the refrigerator. Go and make me a nice plate and bring it to me, with a glass of white wine from one of the chilled bottles."

"Yes, Mistress Lydia."

I went into the kitchen and got the food out of the refrigerator. As I starting preparing a plate for her I wondered how much of my time as her slave would involve preparing meals, doing laundry, cleaning house and performing other humbling tasks. After grabbing a knife, fork and napkin I delivered the plate of food to her, then quickly went back to pour her glass of wine.

"Your wine, Mistress," I said as I handed her the glass.

"Thank you, Jane," she said, then gestured to the floor. "You may kneel."

As I dropped to my knees on the living room carpet I felt strangely more submissive, more under her control, more helpless than when she had me imprisoned on her bed, bound, blindfolded and gagged.

She took a few bites of food and a sip of wine then asked: "So, Jane, when did you develop your particular fondness for panties? I'm certain it didn't start with me."

"Uh, excuse me, Mistress."

"You heard me."

"I, uh, don't remember exactly. But having an older sister had something to do with it."

"Really. How much older?"

"Five years."

"And what? She dressed you in her underwear?"

"Lord, no, nothing like that. But I would, you know, see her things in the bathroom or laundry and …"

"And you stole her panties and jerked off with them," she said matter-of-factly as she continued eating.

"I never stole any, but I did borrow them from time to time."

"Dirty panties from the laundry, or clean ones from her drawer?"

"Both, actually."

"How old were you when you started this?"

"About 13, I guess."

"So she was 18. Nice for you. What exactly did you do with your sister's panties? Did you cum in them?"

"Uh, no, well, only a couple of times. Mostly I was afraid to do that, figuring I would get caught."

"Then tell me what you did do."

"I would rub them on myself …"

"On your little boy's penis?"

"Yes. Or on my chest, or my face."

"What else? I'm fascinated."

"I would, uh, wrap them around my cock, or put them over my head."

"Such a little panty pervert. Did you ever get caught?"

"No, I didn't."

"That's too bad. But I'm sure she suspected something. Was she a babe when she was 18?"

"Yes, she was, uh, attractive."

"Did you fantasize about her when you were beating off?"

"No, God, I mean, she's my sister. Her friends were my, uh, inspiration."

"I'm sure they'd have been so flattered to know that their friend's little brother was thinking of them as he beat off with his sister's panties draped over his head. Did they ever have anything to do with you?"

"No, they either ignored me or tried to embarrass me, which wasn't difficult."

"I'm sure it wasn't. In fact, I'd say you're blushing a bit right now. And I bet you're getting nice and hard under your panties. Are you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Oh, you're so easy," she said as she finished the wine in her glass. "Go get the bottle of wine and bring it in here."

"Yes, Mistress."

When I returned she had reclined on the couch, leaving her half-eaten plate on the cocktail table. She held out her glass and I filled it, then put the bottle down and, as instructed, returned to my kneeling position.

"You must be hungry, huh?"

"A little, Mistress."

"You can finish what's on my plate. Just don't make a mess."

"No, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

I was actually quite hungry and I wanted to wolf down the food but instead I ate it slowly, even delicately. Still, there wasn't all that much and it took me only a few minutes to finish everything on the plate.

"Sorry, girl, that's all you get," she said with a grin. "You'll need energy for tonight, but we do have to keep an eye on your figure. Here, you can have some wine."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said as I reached out for the glass, which contained little more than a full swallow's worth. I drank it in three sips.

When I put down the wine glass she said sharply: "OK, Jane. Dinner break is over. I want you to clear this table and whatever mess you made in the kitchen, then meet me upstairs. You have a lot to learn and do this evening, so don't waste any time."

"No, Mistress, of course not."

"Move it, then."

I scrambled to my feet, picked up the bottle, plate, glass and utensils and took them into the kitchen. As I rinsed off the plate I heard Lydia go up the stairs. I couldn't imagine what she had planned for the rest of the evening. I put everything into the dishwasher, dried my hands and rushed up the stairs.

"In here," she commanded, indicating the bathroom. I stepped in, she followed immediately behind and said, "Stand facing the mirror, take off your kimono and give me the sash."

As I handed her the sash she told me to put my hands out in front of me. I did, and she proceeded to tie my wrists tightly, leaving two lengths the sash hanging freely.

"Now spread your legs and raise your arms."

I did, then she reached up and tied the loose ends of the sash to the shower curtain rod. I had no idea what she was doing until she opened the medicine cabinet and took out a silvery safety razor and a pink tube labeled shaving gel. She saw me looking at the razor.

"That's right, Jane. I'm going to shave your legs and under your arms."

I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"I know you're not really hairy at all, and what hair you do have is actually very soft and fair, but I want my slave girl to be nice and smooth all over. And shaving is still the best way. We can both be thankful that you don't have any nasty chest or back hair."

She applied the cool gel to my armpits.

"Does that feel good, Jane?"

"Oh, Jesus," was what I managed to say.

"That's not a proper response, missy, especially to someone who has a razor."

"I'm sorry, Mistress. Please forgive me. But yes, it feels good."

She began putting the gel on my legs, starting with my thighs. I looked at myself in the mirror for just a second, then turned my eyes away.

"Now don't get the idea that this is going to be a regular thing. Me shaving you, that is. You'll be doing it yourself after this. I just want to make sure that it's done right the first time."

After she had covered my legs from my thighs to my ankles, she toweled off her hands, picked up the razor and said, "Now stand still. Very still. You don't want any nicks or cuts or anything else, do you?"

"No, Mistress. I will be still."

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and tensed my body. I felt and heard the razor gently scrape my left armpit, then the right.

"There, that's not so difficult, is it?" she said as she ran a hand over my freshly shaven skin.

"No, Mistress."

"OK, now your legs." She crouched in front of me and moved the razor to the inside of my left thigh, at the top, right up by my panties, then slowly brought it down to my knee. My cock twitched.

"Oh, I see you like it," she said teasingly. "But don't get too excited. In fact, don't move at all."

I tilted my head back to look at the ceiling and concentrate on being still. She continued the slow, steady strokes with the razor. The feeling of being shaved there was totally new and not unpleasant at all, and the idea of having shaved legs was both exciting – I wondered how my legs would look in sheer stockings or pantyhose, and how they would feel – and troubling. Did she intend for me to have hairless legs just this weekend, or beyond? How could I ever go to the gym? Even if I wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, I couldn't take a shower there. How long would it take for my hair to grow back? What would it look like when it did? Damn, what was I really getting myself into?

"There," she said when she had finished shaving both legs from top to bottom. I looked down and saw her kneeling before me. She glanced up, winked at me, smiled and said, "Oh, why not." Then she yanked my panties down and began rubbing the shaving gel onto my pubic hair.

I wriggled my hips and panted, "Please, no, not …"

She slapped my fully erect dick and barked, "Shut up and hold still. I was only going to shave your pits and legs, but now I definitely want you hairless here, too. C'mon, don't you think it'll feel good be get rid of your nasty pubes and be all nice and smooth?"

"No, Mistress, no, I don't …"

"I used to shave my pussy, you know. Did it for a year or more. It was all right, but a little too much work, if you know what I mean, so I let everything grow back. Do you like shaved pussies?"

"No, I, uh, don't know. I've never seen, uh, been with anyone who did that."

"Well, you won't be able to say that in a few minutes. Now, definitely hold absolutely still."

I shut my eyes and started breathing heavily through my mouth as she placed the razor on my groin. She was actually doing it: I was going to have a shaved crotch! I gritted my teeth and did everything possible to not move a single muscle. I tried not to feel or hear the razor being guided around and under my cock and balls.

"OK, girl, we're finished," she said, gently tapping the head of my dick before standing and putting the gel and razor aside. She reached up and untied the ends of the sash that held my arms above me. I let out a deep sigh and felt a gentle tingling everywhere I had been shaved. But I dared not look. She then took my hands, but instead of untying the sash that bound my wrists she wrapped the two loose ends around and around before fashioning another knot.

"Step into the tub and raise your arms again so you can be rinsed off."

She turned on the shower and directed the hard, warm spray to my armpits, then to my groin and legs. I looked down at the bottom of the tub and watched the foamy gel and my hair run down the drain. I couldn't work up the nerve the take a good look at my legs or crotch.

"OK, Jane, all gone," she said when she turned off the shower. "So how does it feel to be hairless?"

"Strange, Mistress. Right now, just strange."

"You'll come to love it. Now sit in the tub. It's time for your bath."

I sat down, she flipped the stopper and turned on the water, adjusting it to be way past warm.

"I want you to take a nice hot bath, as hot as you can take it," she said as she stood over me with her hands on her hips.

She then picked up a tiny bottle and poured its contents into the rising water. Small, glistening beads formed on the surface.

"It's scented bath oil, girl. Eucalyptus. It's very relaxing, and good for your skin. … Here, I want you to use this shampoo, and this conditioner. I want your hair as clean and manageable as possible. Make sure you rinse with clean water."

"Yes, Mistress. But …"

"But what?"

"My hands, Mistress," I said, raising my bound wrists to her.

"Don't you think a slave should be able to bathe herself with her hands tied? Or is it that you want to feel up your bare legs and your bald crotch?"

"No, Mistress, I, uh, wouldn't be able to bathe myself or wash my hair without getting the sash wet, and I don't want to ruin the pretty kimono by damaging the sash."

"Well, that's creative. And sensible, too. You're right, it's important for a girl to take good care of her pretty things. All right, I'll untie you."

"Thank you, Mistress. You are kind."

"Yes, I am. Now turn off the water before it overflows."

"Yes, Mistress."

"I'm going to allow you to bathe in privacy, missy. Just don't abuse the privilege. Soak for a bit, then do your hair. I'll let you know when your time's up."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"One more thing. If you have to pee after your bath, you'll do it sitting down, like all girls do."

"Yes, Mistress."

She turned away from me and closed the door behind her.

I slid down in the steamy water with my arms at my sides, breathed in the scent of the oil, closed my eyes and relaxed, mentally and physically.

But only for a moment or two. I couldn't deny acknowledging my situation any longer than that. I slid my hands up and down my smooth legs and over my hairless scrotum. Yes, I was sitting in a tub of scented bath water after being shaved from the waist down. I was allowing myself to be subjugated and feminized, and I had no clue what might come next. It was more than I had ever asked for, more than I had ever fantasized about, more, maybe, than I could handle. But it was also so exciting, so unreal, so consuming that I knew I had to continue, that I had to find out where it would lead, where I would be taken.

I shampooed my hair and rinsed it, then applied the conditioner.

"Are you about finished in there?" Lydia called from outside the closed door.

"Yes, Mistress. Just a minute, please."

I rinsed out the conditioner, stepped out of the tub, opened the drain, grabbed a bath towel and began to dry myself. My skin felt very smooth, even a bit slick, from the oil. I combed out my hair then stepped over to the toilet to pee, sitting down.

"Get moving in there."

"Yes, Mistress. I'm coming."

I wrapped the towel around my waist, then moved it up and tried to wrap it around my chest, the way a woman would, but clumsily dropped it to the floor.

"Now, Jane."

I left the towel on the floor and walked out to her bedroom naked, more naked than I had ever been.

Lydia was standing in the far corner of the room, still wearing my button-down shirt. She was holding what looked to be two white scarves in her left hand. As I approached her I cast my eyes downward and put my hands at my sides. My erect cock bobbed with each of my steps.

"Stop there," she snapped. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

I did, and she wrapped a scarf around my wrists and tied it tightly. Then she placed another one over my eyes and tied it behind my head.

"Kneel, slave," she commanded.

As I knelt I heard the click of a switch, then a recorded voice. Mine.

"I want to be your bitch, your slave girl. I want to surrender entirely to you, to dress up for you, to serve you, to worship you. ... Oh, Lydia, please. Please let me be your slut, your sissy. I'll be your whore. I'll be your devoted slave girl. I'll dress up for you and always be ready to serve you. … Please, Lydia, please, please let me be your bitch. Please let me be your slave girl, your panty slut, your whore, your lesbian toy. Please, please let me dress up for you and service you. I'll be pretty, I'll be perfectly obedient, I'll do whatever you say, whatever you command. … I know I'm not worthy, I don't deserve the privilege of serving you, but please, please accept me as your sissy, your slut, your pussy slave."

"Sound familiar, Jane?"

"Yes, Mistress. That's me, from this afternoon."

"Yes, it is. I thought I'd record it, just in case you had any thoughts of trying to back out."

"No, Mistress, no, I wouldn't."

"And now that I've shaved your legs and balls I think you realize that I'm very serious about this arrangement."

"Yes, Mistress, I do. … I am, too."

"So what's your name?"

"My name is Jane, Mistress."

"Who am I?"

"You are Mistress Lydia."

"And what are you?"

"I am your slave girl, Mistress."

"And you will be all weekend, straight through until the stroke of midnight Monday night, right?"

"Yes, Mistress. I belong to you."

"And what is your job, dear Jane?"

"To obey you and to please you, Mistress. In any way I can."

"That's exactly right, slave. And to do that you're going to have to understand some rules. Now pay close attention and remember what I'm telling you."

"Yes, Mistress."

"The first thing is that you are my slave, my property. You have willingly given yourself to me, and I now possess you totally. I can do anything I want with and to you. Do you understand?"

Naked, hairless below the neck, on my knees, bound and blindfolded, I understood completely. "Yes, Mistress," I said.

"This means that you will obey my every command, without the slightest hesitation. You will wear what I want you to wear, do what I tell you to do and go where I tell you to go. You will kiss, lick, suck, bite, eat, drink or swallow anything I tell you to, and you will attach to or insert into your body anything I want you to. Is that all clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"You will not speak unless spoken to or given permission, and you will not look at me directly unless I give you permission or your task requires it."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Because you are not properly trained as a slave, you will be restrained unless I require you to move about, you will be blindfolded unless I need you to see, and you will be gagged unless I need you to use your mouth. Is that clear."

"Yes, Mistress."

"You are not to touch yourself without my permission, even to go to the bathroom. And if I require your services sexually you are forbidden to cum unless I say you can."

"Of course, Mistress."

"If you fail to follow any of these rules or fail to please me in any way, you will be punished. And if I fail to punish you immediately after a transgression – such as, say, the way you failed to address me properly when we were down in the living room, or how you dared talk back to me while you were being shaved – don't think that means you've gotten away with something. Punishment will come when I see fit."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Your punishment may be severe, depending on what you do. You may use the usual safe word at any time, provided you're not gagged, of course. If you say it once I will stop whatever we're doing and pause until you're ready to resume. If you say it three times in succession without stopping, I will break off whatever we're doing and release you immediately – and for good. I simply won't see you again if you do that. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now keep in your mind every second that you're not just my slave, you're my girl slave, my personal sissy. You'll have to look and act and walk like a girl – and think like a girl – or else you're going to be in for a real tough time. Forget about being a guy, about having a cock. Focus on being feminine, on having a clit. Put all your thoughts and effort into being my sweet little slave bitch and you'll do just fine, Jane, just fine."

"I'll try, Mistress."

"You'd better do better than try, dear."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you have any questions, slave?"

"No, Mistress."

"Good. Now stand up. I have something special for you."

Considering what I had experienced already that day, I couldn't fathom what she might consider special. I heard her get some things out of her closet then open two or more boxes.

"Now I want you to stand as still as you did when I was shaving you," she said, standing right in front of me, so close I could feel her breath. "This may feel a little odd at first, but it'll be worth it, trust me."

"Yes, Mistress."

I smelled something slightly medicinal and felt something soft and wet – a pad or small sponge, I guessed – on the right side of my chest. Lydia began to move the pad or sponge in a circular motion on my breast, all around the nipple, leaving a damp, sticky feeling on my skin. I dared not ask what she was doing. She then paused for a second and repeated the same action on the left side of my chest. The moistness, the motion and the mystery were getting me hot, and I thrust my hips forward just a bit, hoping my cock could just brush one of her bare legs.

"None of that, slut. Now, absolutely still."

I sensed her stepping away from me, then I heard the rustling of tissue paper and a couple of other unidentifiable noises close by. A moment later, I felt something smooth being pressed onto the right side of my chest. I could feel Lydia applying the pressure with her hands but I couldn't feel her hands on me. There was something soft and sort of squishy but seemingly heavy between her hands and my chest. When she eased up and pulled her hands away I realized first that she had attached something to me – it felt like a water-filled balloon – then I guessed what. I let out a quick, short shriek.

"Yes, doll, I'm giving you breasts," Lydia cooed. "Beautiful women's breasts. I told you I had something special for you."

"Oh God," I exhaled.

"No swooning yet, missy. The adhesive on this one has to set, and I have to put the left one on. You want your lovely new breast forms to be straight, don't you? Hold still."

She put the second device in place and pressed it onto me. Breast forms. Jesus. She was gluing false tits onto my chest! OK, so I had a thing for panties since adolescence and I had beat off with them and put them on whenever I got the opportunity, and I had been turned on when Lydia had me wear her panties and even more turned on when she had me buy my own and more turned on still when she had added bra, garter belt and stockings to the mix. Did all that mean I wanted or desired anything more? This – being shaved, having boobs – was too much, more than I had ever dreamed of, or had nightmares about. What more would there be? What more could there be?

She stopped pressing on me, then I felt her hands under the breast forms, cupping them, weighing them.

"God, these are damn close to real," she said softly. "The weight is about right, the texture almost feels like skin, the skin tone isn't a bad match for you, they stick out really nice, and they have these nice hard nipples." She then squeezed the two forms and slapped them gently. "And they have great jiggle."

"Jesus, Lydia," I muttered.

"What? What was that?"

"Nothing, Mistress. I'm sorry. I was just ..."

"You were just overcome at the thought of having such delicious tits, right, Jane?

"Yes, Mistress."

"And they are delicious. You should be a perfect 38-C, which will give us all sorts of bra options we didn't have before. Isn't that exciting?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"And you know what? This adhesive is absolutely super. It's won't irritate your skin but it sticks like nothing else. The heat of your body makes it bind stronger, supposedly. You can even bathe, shower or swim and your boobs will stay right where they are."

"H-h-how l-l-long does it last?" I asked.

"Until I use the special solvent that came with it. What's the matter, did you think they were on you for good?"

"No, Mistress, I didn't, er, I don't know about such things."

"All you need to know is that the tits stay on until I decide they come off. Got it?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now, Jane, tell me how they feel on you."

"They feel, uh, heavy, Mistress."

"Surprise, surprise. Now you have some idea what women have to carry around all day, every day. You'll get used to the added weight. It may take you a bit to adjust your posture, but you'll be all right. You'll also have to get used to their simply being there, to doing things without your big tits getting in the way."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Would like to see your breasts?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Ask me then."

"Mistress, would you please remove my blindfold so I might see my new breasts?"

"Yes, Jane, I will. Let's move over to the dressing table mirror."

She guided me a few steps and told me to sit down. When I was seated, she untied the knot in the scarf then slowly drew the blindfold away from my eyes.

When my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked straight ahead and saw them in the mirror above her dressing table. My breasts. My firm, full, round breasts. I was stunned at how they looked on me. I couldn't believe it was my body that I was seeing in the mirror. My new breasts weren't totally realistic, of course, but pretty damn close. They nearly matched the color of my skin, and I could barely detect the edges where the forms met my chest. The dark nipples, rising from pink aureolas, appeared very real indeed. I moved my shoulders to and fro and watched the breasts sway and bounce with my movements. Then I tucked in my chin looked down at the mounds that protruded bizarrely yet somehow naturally from my body, and the nipples that stood out firmly. I felt my cock reach another level of hardness.

"Well, what do you think, Jane?" said Lydia, who was standing beside me.

"I, uh, don't know, Mistress," I replied, not lying.

"What do you mean you don't know? Don't you think your breasts are lovely?"

"Yes, Mistress. They're very pretty. Thank you, thank you for giving me such lovely breasts."

"Do you think they're big enough? I thought about larger sizes, because you are quite a big girl you know, but I figured making you a 40-D might be a little overwhelming."

"I think they're, uh, just the right size, Mistress."

"Good. Now, I bet you'd like to touch them."

"Yes, Mistress, I would."

"Ask."

"Mistress, would you please untie my hands so I might touch my new breasts?"

"Yes, Jane. I'll allow you to touch your tits."

She stepped behind me, reached down to my wrists and untied the scarf that bound them.

"Now you may touch your breasts. Touch, not fondle."

I slowly drew my hands around my body and raised them to the breast forms. I touched them gingerly, on the sides, then moved my fingers around to the nipples and cupped the plump mounds in my hands. The soft, smooth, yielding surface was neither warm nor cool, and while the texture wasn't exactly skin-like, it wasn't especially artificial-feeling, either. I looked into the mirror and was momentarily entranced by the sight of myself with my hands on the full, round boobs that jutted from my chest.

"How do they feel, Jane?"

"Nice, Mistress. Very nice."

"Go ahead, rub them a bit."

I ran my hands over the false tits then pressed them a bit to gauge their pliancy, which I found to be surprisingly near those of real female breasts.

"Christ, it's a good thing those nipples aren't sensitive. You'd probably have your hands on your tits all day. … Now get up and go to the foot of the bed. Your things are there."

"Yes, Mistress," I said as I took my hands off the breast forms and got up off the dressing table bench. I turned and saw what was waiting for me on the bed – a satiny hot-pink bra with matching panties and a rounded device about four or even five inches tall with a flat base, bulbous middle and tapered top.

"You know what this is, right?" Lydia said as she held out the pink butt plug.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Then you know where it goes, and where it stays."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Judging from the look on your face I'd say you've never had one in you before."

"No, Mistress, I haven't."

"Yet another first for little Jane. How sweet. Here, this'll help."

She handed me a small tube of lubricant. I applied a generous dab to my asshole, then she handed me the plug and I gave it a good coating.

"Whoa, that's enough. You'll want to save some of that for later."

I handed her the tube and stood still for a second, holding the plug in my right hand.

"What are you waiting for, bitch? Put it in."

"Yes, Mistress."

Unsure of how to insert it without causing maximum discomfort, I tried holding the plug with both hands behind my ass, then bending my knees and easing my hips backward until I felt its softly pointed tip make contact with my hole. I then pushed it in as slowly and gently as possible until it was about halfway inside me, at which point my ass virtually sucked it the rest of the way in, with only the flat base preventing total insertion. I grimaced and moaned and bucked as the plug settled into place, feeling at least twice its actual size.

"How does it feel to have your ass jammed up like that, sweetie? Maybe not so wonderful now, but as your hole gets used to it you'll love being plugged. You'll crave it, you'll beg for it."

Filled so awkwardly, so uncomfortably, so rudely, I sincerely doubted that.

"Look at your clit right now – as excited as ever. You like the plug already, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," I sighed in response, unable to deny my cock's intensified hardness.

"That's my girl. Now put on your panties, then your bra."

I pulled the bikinis up my shaved legs and over my hips and felt for the first time the enthralling sensation of soft panties against my shaved crotch. I put the bra around my waist backwards and upside down to more easily fasten the back closure, then twisted it around and lifted it up and pulled the straps over my shoulders. I drew the front of the bra over my new breasts then adjusted things until they were properly cradled in the softly molded cups. The bra fit me perfectly – my boobs rose fully and firmly, with a nice touch of cleavage – and the support it provided made the forms feel lighter, less pendulous, on my chest.

"A perfect 38-C, just like I said," Lydia said with a sly grin. "Now, that's a demi bra with molded cups and minimal padding. You're going to have to learn things like that about bras now that you have tits, Jane."

"Yes, Mistress."

"OK, time to do your hair. Hands behind your back."

I did as she ordered, but said meekly, "Oh, Mistress, must I be tied again?"

"Yes, missy, you must. And if you don't shut up you'll be gagged again, too," she said sharply as she rewound the scarf around my wrists and tied it more tightly than before. She guided me back to the bench in front of the dressing table and directed me to sit.

When I put my weight on the padded bench the plug seemed to drive deeper into my ass than was possible. I squirmed and wriggled my cheeks to find a good position but soon gave up and resigned myself to the anal discomfort.

"Ooh, look now nice your tits jut out when your hands are tied behind you back," Lydia said, looking into the mirror. I checked my reflection, and couldn't disagree.

"Now, Jane, your job is to sit nice and still while I try to do something cute with your hair. You can stare at your tits in the mirror or daydream about all the wonderful things I have in store for you, just don't move your head."

"Yes, Mistress."

Standing behind me, she combed out my still-damp hair, brushed it roughly, then applied a few spritzes from a plastic spray bottle.

"I want you to always wear bra and panties when you fix yourself up, hair, makeup, you know."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now, if your hair were a little longer I could probably do something really pretty. This length of yours is just too in-between for decent styling. And your color isn't great either. It's not really brown but not quite blond, either. Well, maybe we can do something about that later. Some highlights, maybe. Going to a good salon would be the best thing, but I'll just work with what you have for now."

In the mirror I saw her pick up a pink plastic roller and felt her separate and pull on a lock of my hair in the back. Then she rolled the hair tightly, almost painfully so, before fastening the roller with a clip of some sort. I must have winced.

"Is that tight?"

"Yes, Mistress, it is."

"Good. … I suspect having your hair rolled and styled is another first for you."

"Yes, Mistress."

She continued, and within a few minutes all of my hair was tightly bound in pink rollers of different sizes, a dozen or more of them.

"Now don't you look simply adorable," she teased. "Just think how much you've changed in the past hour or so, doll. Shaved legs, shaved crotch, big boobs, butt plug up your ass, new pink undies, curlers in your hair. You're becoming a girl, a real girl. And that's what you wanted, isn't it, to be my real live slave girl?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now, Jane, it's time for your makeup. I'm going to fix up your face and make it so pretty you won't recognize yourself. I'll start with your eyebrows. They need some work."

She stepped around the bench and stood in front of me. She picked up small tweezers and scissors and starting plucking and snipping at my eyebrows. I sat silently and watched her breasts, nearly right at my eye level, move gently beneath the loose fitting shirt she wore.

"You're going to have to learn how to do all this yourself," she said as she picked up an eyebrow pencil. "I'm not going to explain everything to you now, because you'd probably forget, anyway. They have these booklets and magazines at the drug store, 'Makeup Basics,' 'The Essentials of Makeup,' things like that. I'll get you one of those. … Or I could have you go out to get one for yourself."

God, I hadn't even considered that she might send me out of the house dressed as a woman. No, she was just teasing, trying to scare me a little.

"Now, Jane, I'm going to do your eyes. Don't move. Don't close your eyes or even blink unless I tell you to."

"Yes, Mistress."

She began by applying mascara to my eyelashes with a tiny brush, then added something around my eyes – did she say it was eyeliner? – with a thin pencil, then something else with a small brush, and more with the brush on my eyelids after telling me to close my eyes.

"There, good girl," she said. "You can relax, a little. Now your face. I'm so glad you shaved really closely today and that what little beard you have is so light. It'll be so much easier to make you look cute."

Powder came first, then some rouge, I think, then I don't know what. I was so mesmerized by the delicate smells, the feel of the soft brushes and pads and Lydia's fingers on my face, and the notion that I was getting totally made up that I really didn't pay attention to exactly what she was doing to me.

"OK, sis, now we're getting there. Lip liner isn't really necessary. All you need now is lipstick. C'mon, pucker up."

I pursed my lips as she uncovered the lipstick, which was a deep, rich pink.

"Do you like the color, Jane?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Because your nail polish will be almost exactly the same shade."

She applied the lipstick, then had me blot my lips on a piece of tissue paper, on which they left their unmistakable imprint.

"There. Not bad at all. I know you're dying to see how you look, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Sorry, not yet." She backed up a step, effectively blocking my view of the mirror. "Turn around and face the other way."

I swiveled my butt on the bench, which caused a new wave of captivating pain from the plug in my ass, and brought my legs around so my back was to the dressing table. Lydia sat cross-legged at my feet with two towels, a nail file, bottle of nail polish and some cotton balls, which she began placing between my toes.

"Ever had your toes painted before?"

"No, Mistress."

"I didn't think so," she said as she placed the towel under my feet. "This will only take a minute, if you keep your feet still."

"Yes, Mistress."

I watched silently as she carefully applied two coats of polish to my toenails until all ten were the same deep, rich pink.

"I'll do your hands while that dries," she said as she got up and placed the second towel on my lap. "When I untie your hands, place them palm-down on the tops of your thighs."

I did as she said, then she crouched at my right knee and took my right hand in her left.

"I'm going to file these just a bit. You really have to stop biting your nails, but the polish should cure you of that," she said as she filed the nail on my pinky. "You know, I thought about getting you some long fake nails, but I figured you'd probably break them."

She quickly finished the filing, then she re-placed my hand on my thigh, told me once again to hold still, and began putting the polish on my nails.

"This color does look good on you," she said as she moved from one finger to the next. "And this polish won't chip or crack easily. Do you think you know how to get it off?"

"Uh, nail polish remover, I believe, Mistress."

"Very good. Too bad I don't have any right now. Oh well, one more thing for you to pick up at the pharmacy. OK, done with that hand. Keep it right there and I'll do the other one."

She repeated the filing and painting procedure my left hand, then stood up and said, "There. That looks pretty good. You're getting closer, Jane. Much closer. Now stay as you are and I'll do your hair."

I sat as still as possible as she swirled a blow-drier around my head, removed the rollers and combed and patted my hair. I swear I could feel it bounce and curl in response to her touch.

"Now you've got a little body there," she said as she sprayed something onto my hair. "And this will help you keep it. … Now, I'm not big on new girls wearing a lot of jewelry, but I think these earrings will be just right."

She attached a clip-on earring to my right lobe; it dangled heavily. She put the other one on my left.

"It would be better if your ears were pierced, but these aren't too bad. Shake your head gently."

I did. I felt the earrings sway back and forth, an odd, unfamiliar sensation, especially in combination with my curled and bouncy hair.

"Very nice touch. Now, a nice, totally feminine scent."

With an atomizer she sprayed me with quick mists of perfume or cologne or something else that was sweet and flowery and totally unlike the fragrances she used.

"That's probably too much, but we do want to cover all traces of your former odor, don't we, Jane?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well, that's about it, missy. Your face is done, your nails are dry, your hair's up. … Yes, I suppose you can turn around and take a look now."

I slowly turned on the bench so as not to aggravate the condition of my plugged ass, then closed my eyes for a second.

"Well, Jane, what do you think?"

I opened my eyes and saw in the mirror a visage I barely recognized. My hair, while certainly not sleek or stylish, definitely looked much more feminine, with new waves and curls. I nodded my head quickly to see their response, and to watch the earrings dance from my lobes. But it was my face that most stunned me. It was my face, I had to remind myself, as I marveled at my thin and defined eyebrows, long and darker lashes, tastefully highlighted eyes, softer cheeks, delicate coloring and lush pink lips.

"What's the matter, dear? Speechless?"

"No, Mistress, I, uh, well, yes. I don't know what to say."

"Don't you think you're pretty, Jane?"

God, I hated to, but I had to admit it. "Yes, Mistress. I do think I'm pretty."

"Then you can say thank you."

"Yes, thank you, Mistress Lydia. Thank you for making me so pretty."

"You're welcome, Jane. You know I could have just put a bow in your hair, smudged some rouge on your cheeks and given you a cheap set of falsies, but that wouldn't have been enough, for either of us, would it?"

"No, Mistress."

"And you probably won't want to hear this, but ever since we met I've thought you would look great as a woman. A little tall, perhaps, but I've always thought your face, your ass and your legs had strong feminine qualities. I guess I was right, huh?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now it's time for you to get dressed for the evening. Take the towels and these things here into the bathroom, take off your bra and panties and put them in the laundry hamper, then come back to me here. You may pee if you have to when you're in there, but don't you dare touch your butt plug."

"No, Mistress."

In the bathroom, I removed my bra and the panties and looked down at my painted nails, shaved legs and crotch, and breast forms, then up into the mirror at my done-up hair, earrings and made-up face. I inhaled my new sweet fragrance. I was hit by a wave of detachment, like I was looking at somebody else, or that I was occupying someone else's body. It was me, I knew, but which me?

Only my balls and stiff cock provided a connection to reality. I resisted a very strong urge to run my hands over them.

"Jane, come out of there now," Lydia called.

I returned to the bedroom, naked.

"What we you doing in there, sweetie? Admiring yourself in the mirror?"

"Uh, yes, Mistress, for a moment. I'm still not used to, uh, how I look."

"You will over the next few days, don't worry. But we will have to do something about the way you walk – it's definitely not girlish. … Now before you get dressed I want you to go down to the kitchen, open a bottle of the chilled white wine and bring it up here with a clean glass."

"Yes, Mistress."

As I went down the stairs I realized that I hadn't walked around Lydia's house naked before, never mind naked like this. I hurried from the foot of the stairway into the kitchen, feeling totally exposed, as if I were out in public instead of in a private home. Thank God none of the bright lights were on. I opened the wine, grabbed a glass and hurried back up the stairs, my breasts, balls and dick bouncing with each step.

"Good girl. Put it over there on the table by the armchair, then come over here."

Lydia was standing next to the bed. On it was a pink box topped by a large white bow.

"It's for you, Jane, for tonight. Go ahead and open it."

I did, nervously, then lifted away the tissue paper to reveal lingerie, delicate-looking white lace and satin lingerie.

"I know you're not exactly a virgin, but since this is a night of firsts, I thought white would be appropriate. Take everything out, then put the bra on."

I removed the matching bra, panties and garter belt and a pair of sheer white stockings with lacy tops and gently placed them on the dark blue bedcover. But I paused before taking the last item out of the box.

"What's the matter, doll? Think your waist doesn't need a little slimming?"

I lifted from the box a satiny white garment trimmed with lace and ribbons. It had visible vertical ribbing most of the way around and a dozen or so small hook-and-eyelet closures on what I assumed to be its back.

"That's a waist cincher. Guaranteed to give you the curves we both want you to have. We'll see how it works on you before thinking about a full-fledged lace-up corset."

"Yes, Mistress," I said as I put the cincher on the bed and picked up the bra to put it on.

"What you have there, Jane, is a satin and stretch lace underwire bra with full-coverage cups. It should look absolutely luscious on those tits of yours."

The bra fit nicely and gave my breast forms both lift and support, though the underwire did feel a little odd.

"Very sweet indeed. Now the garter, then the hose."

I put on the garter belt then sat on the edge of the bed to put on the stockings.

"They're nice and sheer, sweetie, so they should feel real nice on your shaved legs."

Oh, was she right about that. I'd come to enjoy the feel of stockings and pantyhose on my legs, but this was so much better than before, an absolutely new and terrific sensation.

"Feels great, huh?" she said after I had put the shiny white stockings on both legs.

"Yes, Mistress, it's very nice."

"Now make sure your garter straps are straight and tight."

"Yes, Mistress," I said as I fastened and adjusted the straps.

"OK, now you can put your panties on."

I picked up the panties and saw that they were cut high on the sides and that the satin rear had a center seam. I eased them up my legs and into place. They fit very snugly, especially in front, where my erection had done anything but subside.

"You look good in white, Jane. Sweet and innocent, but still sexy. Here, give me the waist cincher. I'll put it on you. Turn around and put your arms up."

I did, and she stepped behind me and placed the cincher around my midsection.

"Now breathe in," she instructed.

I complied, then she pulled the cincher tightly, enough to knock some breath out of me.

"Hold it there," she said as she again tugged at the garment and fastened the first hook-and-eye, then another.

"Oooh, we made it to the second row of eyelets. Not bad. That should take a couple of inches off your waist. Next time we'll make to the third row."

As she tugged and fastened the closures, the cincher tightened around me. I couldn't believe that something so frilly and feminine could be so constricting. It felt like four pairs of hands were pressing in on me, front, back and sides. I had to take short, panting breaths.

I felt her hook the last eyelet. The tightness of the cincher was stunning. My body was clearly no longer my own, in form or feeling. With the breast forms on my chest, the plug in my ass and now the cincher around my waist, I literally had to figure out how to stand.

Lydia stepped in front of me and ran her hand along the sides of my torso.

"Now you have a figure, girl," she cooed. "Your waist could be a little slimmer, but it's definitely fine for now. How does that feel on you?"

"Tight, Mistress. It's a little difficult to breathe."

"Oh, as I've said before, you'll get used to it. Now, something to complete your ensemble."

She stooped quickly, pulled a box from under the bed, rose, removed the top and showed me the contents.

"Your first pair of heels, doll. How do you like them?"

"Fine, Mistress," I said as I stared at the shoes, white leather pumps with slightly rounded toes and relatively thick heels maybe three inches high.

"Well, put them on then."

I took both shoes from the box and placed them on the floor at my feet. I leaned on the bed with my left hand and slid my right foot into the shoe with surprisingly little difficulty.

"It wasn't exactly easy finding your size, you know, but that looks like a perfect fit."

"Yes, Mistress. It fits very well."

I had a little more trouble with the left shoe, as I had to put my weight on my now-heeled right foot for a moment, but I managed to get it. It, too, fit just right.

And I thought I had difficulty standing just a moment before. I almost lost my balance when I removed my right hand from the supporting bed.

"I'm sorry they're not the most stylish shoes in the world, but we'll keep looking. You can consider these your training heels."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now stand up straight, Jane. Christ, those heels aren't that high at all. Unbend your knees and find your balance."

I did my best, but still tottered slightly at the knees and ankles.

"God, what a klutz. Maybe you'll do better moving. Walk across the room and back."

I took a very small step, then managed two more before I stumbled.

"No, no. You're walking like a man in ski boots. Haven't you ever watched how women walk in heels? One step slightly in front of the other. Ease your balance point from one foot to the other as you walk by swiveling your hips a little. Get a little rhythm going. Try it."

I did, and it worked. Not enough to keep from tripping when I tried to turn around on the far side of the room, but in only a few strides I was able to get the hang of it. My calves and thighs felt funny, and I imagined that my ass was sticking out way too far and swaying way too much, but I was walking in high heels.

"That's it, Jane. You're getting it. Keep going, one more time across the room and back."

I did it, though not gracefully, and Lydia applauded.

"Good girl. I thought you could manage it. You can practice on the stairs later. Right now I want you to pose for some pictures."

"P-p-pictures," I muttered.

"Yes, Jane, pictures. With my digital camera. Did you think I was going to let this occasion pass without making a visual record of it?"

"No, Mistress, I didn't think about that. But, uh, I don't …"

"Don't what? Don't want to pose for me in your makeup and lipstick and sexy underwear and high heels? Are you afraid of having your picture taken looking like that? Ashamed of being my sissy girl?"

"No, Mistress, not at all, it's just …"

"It's just what? That you're afraid of what I might do with the pictures? Hand out prints to your friends? Send e-mail attachments to your colleagues? Create a 'Slave Jane' web site and post them on the Internet?"

"No, Mistress, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken. … I'd be delighted to pose for you."

"I thought so. Now walk over to the full-length mirror and stand in front of it while I get the camera set up. Take a good look at yourself. It's the new you, Jane. You'd better get to like what you see."

"Yes, Mistress."

As I stared into the tall mirror I once again had difficulty believing that the reflection was mine. My hair, face, torso and legs had been dramatically transformed. Thanks to the cut and tightness of the panties, that I possessed a cock and balls was not readily apparent. The panties and the bra, cincher, garter belt, stockings and heels, the earrings and painted fingernails, actually seemed to belong on the body I was looking at. All the new physical sensations – the feel of the curls in my hair, the makeup and lipstick on my skin, the polish on my nails, the breasts on my chest, the cincher around my waist, the fabric on my clean-shaven groin and legs, the plug up my ass and the high heels on my feet – were as mesmerizing as my appearance. Not to mention the effect of being enveloped in the strong, sweet perfume.

I was, astoundingly, becoming a bit infatuated with my new self.

"OK, that's enough mirror gazing," Lydia snapped. "It's time for your photo shoot. Come here."

I walked over to the center of the bedroom, to where Lydia stood with camera in hand.

"I don't suppose you've ever done any modeling, have you?" she asked.

"No, Mistress."

"But you've looked at enough sex magazines and lingerie catalogs to know what makes for a provocative pose, right?"

"I think so, Mistress. I'll try."

"Just do what I tell you to do and it'll be fine. But maybe a little wine would loosen you up. Would you like that?"

"Yes, Mistress, I think it might help."

"OK, go pour yourself a glass."

"Thank you, Mistress."

As I walked over to the table where I had put the wine bottle and glass. I could feel her eyes following me.

"Those heels really do great things for your legs and ass," she said I as poured the wine. "I can't wait to see what five- or six-inch stilettos would do."

I turned back toward her and held out the glass. My hand was shaking ever so slightly.

"Would you like some wine first, Mistress?" I asked.

"No, thank you, Jane. But it was very smart of you to ask. You may drink it now."

I nodded and took a good swallow of the wine, then another.

"Guzzling wine isn't very ladylike," Lydia said.

"Sorry, Mistress. I, uh, was thirsty."

"But still. If you drink anything that fast it will go straight to your head, and you'll be at a distinct disadvantage should someone try to take liberties with you. … Just sip your wine, Jane."

"Yes, Mistress."

I then took only dainty sips, but had a good buzz before I finished half the glass. Maybe I was already a little light-headed, which would be understandable, but the wine was definitely having a quicker, stronger effect that it would normally. Then the thought: Had she put something in it?

"OK, missy, that's enough. Let's get going. Get over by the side of the bed and stand facing me with you hands on your tits."

I followed her instructions and she snapped off a picture, but then snapped at me.

"Christ, try to put a look on your face other than mystified, OK? Try to look alluring, or bashful, or defiant, or something. And curl your legs a little, and caress your breasts. You're holding them like loaves of bread."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, and tried to improve my pose.

"That's better. There. … Now rub your tits a little, and close your eyes like you're enjoying it. Make me jealous of your boobs. There, that's it. Better. … Now give me some mouth. Show me those luscious pink lips. … Pucker them, like for a kiss. There. Good."

I followed her directions, and it became easier and easier with each shot.

"Now leave your left hand up there and slide your right hand down, onto your waist. Yes. … Now down to your garter. Hold it there. Good. … Now down to your panties. Oh yeah. Very nice. … Rub yourself, go on. OK. … Slip your hand inside your panties. That's it. Now show me how good that feels. Fine. … C'mon, lick your lips. Show me a little tongue. … That's good, yeah, do that. Gyrate some more. … Nice, Jane, nice."

I couldn't believe it, but I was getting into it.

"Now put your other hand down inside your panties. That's it. Great. … Now give me a sexy look. C'mon, you can do better than that. … Hey! Look surprised. C'mon, like you've been caught with all ten fingers inside your panties. That's good, yes. … Now, leave one hand down there and put the other one up to your mouth. Yeah, that's it. Lick a couple of fingers, suck 'em. … Oooh. Excellent."

Not thinking at all, just hearing Lydia's directions and posing and feeling my hands all over myself, I felt absolutely sexy.

"OK, now turn around and put your hands on your ass. Look back over your shoulder. OK. … Now try surprised again. Nice. … Put your hands on the waistband of your panties like you're going to pull them down. There. Good. … Now pull them down just a little. That's it. … Now a little more, more, show me some crack. … All right, down a little more. There. Now bend over at the waist and stick your ass right at the camera. Yes. … Now pull them all the way down, off your ass. Now put your hands up, turn your head to the right. Yes, yes, that's it. … Good job, Jane. … Now turn around."

I reached down to pull up my panties before turning but she stopped me.

"Hey, what are you doing? Leave your panties down there and turn around. I need some shots of your big clit. These pictures have to show who you really are."

I faced her, putting my hands at my sides and my head down.

"That's fine. Looking ashamed is perfectly acceptable. … Now put your hands down there, feel yourself up, and look up at me. There, OK. Embarrassed is a good look. … Three, four, that should be enough of that view. You can pull your panties back up."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"You did good, Jane. I think you like modeling for me."

"Yes, Mistress, I think so, too."

"Good for you. Now get up on the bed and be slutty for me."

On the bed she had me assume another series of naughty and nasty positions, and I eagerly complied. I was surprised, and a bit disappointed, that she didn't bring out any props for me to pose with – I was sure she was going to have me at least kiss a dildo in front of the lens – but I was more than happy and excited to vamp it up for the camera with "just" my lingerie-clad body.

After taking a shot of me lying face-up with my legs spread wide and my hands on my bra cups, Lydia stepped away from the foot of the bed and said, "OK, Jane. That's good for now. You can relax for a minute. I have to get something."

I closed my eyes and stretched out on the bed, both tired and excited. I had to remind myself that it was all real, that it was actually happening, and not some bizarre dream.

Lydia returned to the bed and said, "Here, Jane, put these on."

I looked up and saw in her extended right hand four white leather bands, each about two inches wide with a silvery metal buckle and attached D-ring.

"Take them, bitch, and put them on your ankles and wrists."

I sat up, took them from her and started putting one of the cuffs on my left ankle.

"Buckle them all as tight as they go, and fix them so the rings are facing to the inside, toward your other wrist or ankle."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, and wondered: Where did she get all this stuff?

When I had attached all four cuffs she told me to stand with my feet close together. I did, and she reached down and quickly connected the rings of the ankle cuffs with a metal spring-clasp.

"I do have a set of nice little padlocks to use with these cuffs, but I think this will be sufficient, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Now turn and put your hands behind your back."

I did, and within a second my wrists were attached to each other.

"You know this is actually a matching set of five leather restraints. Now hold still while I add the final piece."

She reached over my shoulders and placed the fifth item around my neck.

"Now it's official, Jane," she whispered as she buckled it. "I'm putting a slave collar on you."

I shuddered for just a second and let out a sigh. She slid her left arm around me and pressed her hand onto the growing bulge in my panties, then looped two fingers of her right hand into the D-ring at the front of the collar.

"Oooh, it feels like you are excited by wearing my collar."

"Yes, Mistress. … It's a, ah, privilege to wear it."

"Yes it is, slave, and don't you forget it."

"No, Mistress."

She laughed, removed her hands and pushed me forward onto the bed.

"Now for some nice bondage shots," she said as she grabbed me by the ankle rings and lifted my legs up and onto the bed cover. "Wriggle around a bit, struggle even. Look scared and helpless, just like you really are."

She took a few shots as I tried to adjust my position on the bed to something other than totally awkward, then she reached over and yanked my panties down to my knees.

"Oh, chained hands right above a bare ass. That's so hot. … Now roll over so I can get another good clit shot."

She took more than one, and all I could do was lie there as she snapped away.

"I could've have taken pictures of you this afternoon, you know, when you were chained to the bed. But you were blindfolded so nobody could see you face, and besides, that was before your little makeover. These will be so much better. … OK, now get off of there. Stand up."

I struggled to get to the edge of the bed, then struggled even more to stand up. My panties fell to my ankles.

"Over here, bitch" she commanded, pointing to the middle of the room.

Between the ankle cuffs and the heels, I was able to take only the tiniest of mincing steps. It took what seemed like minutes to move those few feet.

"There, stand there. OK," she said as she took yet another shot of me with my exposed cock sticking out from my shaved loins. "Now turn, look at me over your shoulder, and show me that ass again. … Yeah, that's good. You can see the base of your plug."

I hadn't considered that at all. The arousal I had felt while posing with my hands and legs free had been replaced by other feelings, among them embarrassment. My cock softened in shame.

"Jane, are you blushing?" Lydia teased. "Becoming shy at this stage of the game? Oh my. And look, your clit seems to be shrinking. … Here, this might help."

She put down the camera then turned and picked up something else and held it behind her back as she walked over to me.

"Can you guess what I'm holding behind me, slave?"

"N-no, Mistress."

"What's the matter, no imagination?"

"N-no, Mistress."

She held up a pink ball gag with white leather straps and buckle closure.

"Open up, Jane. This is part of your outfit, too."

I wanted to protest, to turn my head away, to lock my jaw shut, to do anything but be gagged by that obscene pink ball. But I knew none of that was possible. I opened my mouth.

"Good girl," she said as she placed the ball between my teeth. "I hope you noticed that the color of the ball almost matches your lipstick and nail polish."

She walked around me and buckled the gag tightly behind my head, stretching my mouth to what I was sure was a hideous appearance.

"I've just used scarves and panties to gag you up to now, haven't I? Well, how do you like your first real gag, slave?"

I uttered a moan in reply.

"You don't say. Now, let me get a couple shots of you right there. … And now from over here. … Good. Now get on your knees, bitch. Kneel."

I bent my knees and, afraid of toppling over, slowly and carefully lowered myself into a kneeling position.

"That's it. Now look up at me, show me that gagged mouth of yours. That's it. Good. … Now look down, look down at your clit. Perfect. … OK, I've seen enough of your hairless crotch and bare ass for now. Pull your panties up."

They were draped on the metal that connected my ankles. I was on my knees with my hands locked behind my back. How the hell was I supposed to manage that? I made a noise behind my gag.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, slut? I told you to pull your goddamn panties up. Do it."

I just had to figure out how. For the life of me I couldn't.

"I'm waiting, Jane."

I sort of rolled out of the kneeling position and onto my stomach. I bent my knees to put my feet up and shook my legs. The panties fell down my calves to my knees.

"Nice move," Lydia said with a short laugh as she took another photo. I imagined what it would look like, and wondered if I would appear as humiliated as I felt.

I lowered my legs and inched forward on the carpet, chafing my dick a little but finally managing to get my knees through the leg holes of the panties. Lydia snapped off a few more shots. Once the panties were over my knees, I knelt again. I could now reach them and tug them, one leg at a time, up and onto my hips. I then was able to get my thumbs inside the waistband and move them far enough on each side to put the panties in their proper position.

"Excellent job," Lydia said. "I do have to say that you looked absolutely pitiful, squirming on the rug to nudge the panties up your legs, but you did it. Just don't ever use any of those clever moves to try to get out of your chains. … Now stand back up. I'm going to adjust something."

God, I thought, what could that mean?

She put the camera down, stepped behind me and released the clasp linking my wrist cuffs. I let out a sigh, but she immediately stepped in front of me, drew my hands around and reattached the cuff rings in front of me.

"There, a little change for you. Now make yourself useful. There's a step-stool in the closet. Go get it and bring it to me."

The closet couldn't have been more than fifteen feet away. Hobbled as I was, it must have taken me fifty steps to get there and, carrying the step-stool in my bound hands, sixty or more to more to return.

"That was very slow, Jane. You're going to have to learn to move faster, whether you're chained or not. Now put that down right here and turn around."

I complied, and she stepped onto the stool behind me. I heard the clinking of a chain.

"You know, I bet you never paid much attention to the plate in their ceiling right above you, where there used to be a ceiling fan. Turns out it's bolted to one of the main crossing beams and can support weight of three hundred pounds or more. And it has this delightful handle-like bar on it that's simply ideal for attaching a length of chain. And the height of the ceiling is just right, too. … Hold you hands up over your head."

As I did, she took hold of them and raised them until my arms were stretched to almost straight and my high heels were on the verge of being off the floor. I heard the metallic click of one spring-clasp, then another.

"There, that should be just about perfect," Lydia said as she stepped down off the stool.

I tugged at the chain, hoping to find that it had some slack. It didn't. Stretched fully, I was neither fully suspended from the ceiling nor standing firmly on my feet. She had me locked at the point right in between.

"Comfortable, Jane?"

I grunted in reply.

"Good. Now hold still. I just have to get a few pictures of you like this," she said as she stepped over to get the camera. Then she walked around me, taking shots from front and rear.

"And now like this," she said as she grabbed the waistband of my panties in the rear and pulled them down to mid-thigh. Responding to this new state of abject helplessness, my cock stiffened.

"Ooh, I see you like being hung up," Lydia said as she snapped off a few more pictures. "It really turns you on to be my prisoner, doesn't it?"

My only response was heavy breathing.

"OK, I think that's enough pictures, for now at least. Here, let me help you with your panties," she said as she pulled them back up into place. "But I do have something else for you."

She came around from behind me holding a white leather blindfold with a buckle strap.

"This completes your ensemble, Jane," she said as she held it up in front of my face. "I won't put it on too tightly – I don't want to ruin your hairdo or your eye makeup."

She placed it over my eyes and fastened it behind my head, making my captivity complete. I groaned.

"Shhhhh, little Jane," she whispered. "You should take pleasure in your absolute powerlessness, your total lack of control. I know it's what you want, what you crave, so relax and enjoy it. Get in touch with your bonds, and with your new body, all the way from your coiffed hair down to your painted toes."

Then she began running her hands all over my body, pinching and rubbing here, stroking and scratching there. I twisted and flinched in fear and delight.

"Yes, Jane, this is your body. The body with nice firm tits and a cinched waist and shaved pits and legs and crotch, the body decorated with makeup and lipstick and nail polish and earrings, the body restrained by leather cuffs and a leather collar, the body molded by bra and corset and garter and stockings and heels and panties. Always panties for my sweet, sexy Jane."

Her teasing touches on my skin and on my garments were driving me wild. She had yet to touch my dick; I was sure it would explode if she did.

But she didn't. She abruptly stepped away, leaving me writhing in my restraints, my breath coming in short, rapid bursts.

"Now, now, calm down, doll. You get so excited so easily. It's so cute. But now I'm going to leave you alone for a bit."

No, please don't, I thought, and muttered my protest in unintelligible grunts.

"No, it'll just be for a little bit. I'm going to take a bath and fix myself up and get dressed for the evening. I can't wear just this shirt of yours over plain panties all night when you have on such a totally sexy outfit; it just wouldn't be fair. Now, Jane, maybe tomorrow night I'll let you be my body slave. If you're good, I'll let you undress me, then bathe me and wash my hair and dry it, and maybe let you shave my legs like I did yours tonight, and buff and polish my nails, and, oh, I don't know what else before you dress me. But not tonight, sissy. You're not ready yet, and I need a little time alone to figure out exactly what I'm going to do to you tonight and what I'm going to save for later on."

She delivered a sharp slap to my ass and left me, at least as far as I could tell.

If I hadn't been gagged I would have risked sure punishment to plead, to beg her to let me down, to let me bathe her, to let me service her, to let me do anything except be left there bound and sightless and speechless and alone with the conflicted and confused thoughts that taunted me and mocked me and thrilled me as they raced through my mind. Immersed in frustration of all kinds, I let out a long, primitive moan behind the ball gag. But Lydia ignored it, and me.

I heard running water and other sounds from the bathroom. At least she really was taking a bath. But after that? What then? It would be a surprise, no doubt, just as everything all day had been totally unpredictable. But that was Lydia: Expect her to do one thing and she would do something else; want her to do something and she would do something else. But as I had no idea what I expected or wanted at that moment – except to be unchained from the damn ceiling hook – I had absolutely no clue what Lydia was planning. Which was the point, I recognized.

After what seemed like only a few minutes my arms and thighs and calves and feet began to ache; the cincher seemed to tighten around my waist, the breast forms seemed to get heavier on my chest, the plug seemed to grown in my ass. It was like every part of my body was mocking me, reminding me what I had gotten myself into and what I was powerless to halt.

God, I hated hanging there. When I had been bound to her bed I was equally helpless but at least I could relax a bit. Not now. There was no relief, no repose. I was her prisoner, totally in her control, completely at her mercy. I had to face it: There was absolutely nothing I could do but wait for her and then, when she came back to me, to submit to her, to be a good girl, a good slave. That thought filled me with comfort, desire and dread.

"Thinking of me, Jane?" Lydia said as she walked toward me from the direction of the bathroom. Her voice sounded sharper, her tone more menacing and less playful than before.

"I bet you're starting to get really uncomfortable, huh? That's too bad. You're likely to find yourself in far more uncomfortable positions before this weekend's finished. My bath was delightful, but I still have to do my hair and well, you know, so you'll just have to wait. And don't you dare make a sound."

I heard noises from where I thought the dressing table was, and I tried to picture her sitting there naked, combing and fixing her hair and putting on makeup and lipstick and …

"I really don't know why I'm going to all this trouble for a slave. I mean, I could just leave your blindfold on and you wouldn't have any idea how I looked, would you, Jane?"

No, she wouldn't do that. After having me blindfolded during everything that happened in the afternoon and for parts of the evening, too, she had to let me see her tonight, she had to.

"But since you're all dolled up, I suppose I should be, too. It wouldn't be right for a mistress to be outdone in any way by her slave girl."

Determined to please her in the only way possible, I stayed still and silent.

I heard the sound of a hair dryer for a few moments, then, within seconds, it seemed, the opening and closing of drawers. Then what sounded like her dressing, then some rustling, then the unmistakable sound of zippers, two of them.

What, I wondered, could she be putting on?

I then heard a quick whooshing sound and a quick, short snap, and then her voice: "I'm ready now, ready for you, bitch. Are you ready for me?"

I nodded my head eagerly.

"That's very good," she said. I felt something thin and stiff against my face, then under my chin.

"Can you feel that? Do you know what that is, Jane?"

The object was pulled away. I shook my head.

"It's a riding crop. And I'm going to use it on your ass. No more bare-hand spankings or back of the hair brush for you, missy. You've graduated to serious punishment. I know you're going to love it. But first let me change your position a little."

She was behind me; I heard her step up on the step-stool, then heard the clinking of chain and felt her release the clasps that held my wrist cuffs to the bar on the ceiling. I let my aching arms fall forward over my head. My still-bound wrists came to rest of my thighs. I let out a sigh of relief. Had I not been gagged, I would have thanked her profusely.

"Kneel down and hold your hands up."

I did, and she freed my wrists from each other. But afraid to move without instruction, I left my arms above my head.

"Good girl. Now stand, and put your hands behind your back."

Once I did, she re-attached my wrists then attached a clasp to the link connecting them. I briefly felt the coolness of chain against my bare shoulders, and realized the chain was attached to my wrist cuffs. Then Lydia lifted my arms up behind me, up and up some more, forcing me to bend at the waist. Then I heard more clinking of chain and felt the pull on my bound wrists tighten, forcing me to bend more deeply forward with my ass jutting out. I realized: She had attached the chain to the ceiling.

And I had thought I had been helpless and vulnerable in the previous position.

"Now I've got you, bitch, right where I want you," she said as she ran a hand over my panty-covered ass. "Right where you deserve to be."

I started to shudder.

"Bent over like that, your ass makes such an inviting target, Jane. It's like it's being offered to me on a silver platter. How can I possibly resist giving it a good whipping?"

She yanked my panties down to my thighs and rubbed my ass cheeks with both hands. It felt like she was wearing gloves, soft leather gloves. There was a moment of stillness and silence, then I heard a whoosh and a sharp crack and felt a laser of biting pain cross my ass cheeks. I rocked forward and moaned, involuntarily.

"You like that, don't you, bitch? You love having your ass whacked, I can tell. And don't you just love the fact that you can hear the sound the crop makes right before you feel it on your skin?"

Then came another whoosh and crack and bite of pain. Then another, then another.

"Do you know why I'm striping your pretty little ass with a riding crop, Jane? Because I can. And because I want to. And because you desperately need it."

She delivered four quick strokes, then four more. Any movement I could manage only made things worse. Clenching my buttocks at each blow only served to drive the butt plug in deeper. I panted and whimpered in pain and humiliation. She continued – a quick slap, long hard stroke, a merciless series of blows – until my entire ass burned. After one especially hard and loud stroke, I emitted an inhuman groan.

"Oooh, does that hurt, bitch? I hope so. It's supposed to."

She went on cropping me. I was losing feeling in my arms and legs; I felt only the fire on my ass. Good God, I wondered, how could she be so cruel to me?

Then she stopped. My rushed, heavy breathing continued after the last stroke had been delivered, as did the pain.

"You should see your ass, Jane. It has beautiful red stripes and a nice pink glow."

I felt her step up to my head and begin to unbuckle my gag. As soon as she pulled the ball from between my teeth I gushed, "Oh, God, th-thank you … thank you Mistress."

"What are you thanking me for, slave?"

"F-for … f-for remove … for removing the gag, M-mistress," I said breathlessly.

"Really? Not for whipping you? Not for making you feel the bittersweet pleasure of intense pain? That's not right, Jane. I suppose I'll have to continue."

"N-no, Mistress, please, no. I, I, uh, can't …"

"You can't what? Take it?"

"No, Mistress, please, no, I'll …"

"You'll take what I choose to give you, bitch. Remember who you are and what your purpose is. But please go ahead and plead for mercy. That's the only reason I took out your gag. I want to hear you cry and moan and beg."

She resumed her attack on my ass and she got what she wanted. I moaned and shrieked and cried out and begged her to stop.

"That's it, bitch, let it out. Go ahead, try to wake the neighbors. Nobody can hear you, except me. Let me know how much it really hurts. And if it's not hurting your ass enough I can always move down to your thighs and calves. That's right, I'll whip your pretty white stockings right off your legs."

She delivered two quick blows across the back of my thighs.

"Oh, damn, goddamn. … Damn you," I blurted out.

She immediately stopped.

"What was that?"

"N-nothing, nothing, Mistress."

"Don't lie to me, you miserable bitch," she said, now standing in front of me. "You said 'Damn you.'"

"No, Mistress, I …"

She slapped me across the face with her gloved right hand, the leather sharpening the sting, then held what had to be the riding crop firmly under my chin, forcing my head up and back.

"You ungrateful, foul-mouthed bitch," she snarled right into my face. "I give you all this attention, I do all these things for you, and you curse me? You have the nerve to curse me? You stupid cunt. Don't you know you'll pay for talking to me like that?"

"Please, Mistress, no, I'm sorry, I didn't, I was …"

She slapped me again and barked: "Shut the fuck up." I sensed her moving away for a second, then she returned and jammed the ball gag back into my mouth.

"Here, curse into this, slave. Curse and scream all you want," she sneered as she buckled the gag tightly into place. "It won't do you any good. Nothing you do will stop this pain."

I felt her step away from me, and braced for a new assault on my seared ass. But then she grabbed my hair with her left hand, and I felt the riding crop in her right. She eased its tip up and down the front of my thighs, then delivered a quick, firm stroke right to my stiff dick.

"Aawwrrghmmph!"

"That's right, bitch. Feel that on your sissy clit. Curse me, will you, huh?"

She rapidly brought the crop down and then up and flicked it against my exposed cock and balls, down and up, down and up, again and again until I was absolutely frantic.

"See, see what I can do to you, bitch. She how I can get to you like no one ever has before, in ways that you've never imagined. You don't like this, do you? You don't like having your sissy clit whipped."

I shook my head as best I could. She continued to flail the crop against my naked crotch. The pain was biting, intense, unbelievable.

"Then don't you ever say anything like that to me again, understand?"

I nodded desperately.

"Good. Next time I might not be so gentle. And remember there's more I can do than whip you ass and clit. If you screw up bad enough, I'll just get rid of you. I'll kick your sorry sissy ass right out of here for good. You wouldn't want that, would you?

I shook my head and whimpered. She tightened her grip on my hair and delivered a series of short, quick flicks to my balls.

"Behave then."

She let go of my hair and stepped away.

The pain in my dick and balls actually let me forget for a few seconds how intensely my ass cheeks were burning. Jesus, if that's what I got for a slip of the tongue while being beaten, what would she do to me if I really messed up? I definitely didn't want to find out. I would behave; I simply had to.

I heard the clinking of glass and assumed that Lydia was pouring herself some wine. I imagined her sitting in the armchair, wearing some outrageously sexy outfit, sipping wine and staring at me, her hapless prisoner, without pity.

"Have you learned your lesson, slave?" she called out to me.

I nodded.

"Are you ready to serve me now, to serve me properly?"

I nodded again, more rapidly.

"Very well, bitch. We'll see."

It sounded like she was coming toward me. Then I felt her behind me. She placed her gloved hands on my burning ass cheeks.

"I bet this still hurts," she said, then shifted one hand down and onto my balls. "And here, too. That's good. The pain should linger long after the moment of punishment. Let it be a reminder."

Then, without warning, she took hold of the base of the butt plug and quickly and rudely pulled it out of my ass. I uttered a muffled moan of shock, pain and delight. She then gently lifted my panties up into place. The touch of the soft, satiny fabric actually seemed to soothe my ravaged skin. I sort of cooed behind the ball gag.

"If you think that's nice, wait till you experience what latex panties feel like on a freshly whipped ass," she said. "You won't believe it."

She then undid the attachment that held my wrists to the chain hanging from the plate in the ceiling and guided my hands down to the small of my back. My arms and legs felt hollow, and I was a little unsteady on my high heels, but I was standing upright again. I was very grateful to her for allowing me that, and for removing the butt plug. She was easing my condition. Could it be that my torture for the evening was at or at least nearing an end?

"On your knees, slave," Lydia commanded. "You have work to do."

Once I was kneeling, she ordered me to bend forward so my face was to the floor. Then I felt her hands at the back of my head, and she unbuckled the gag and let it fall away from my stretched mouth.

"What do you say, bitch?"

"Th-thank you, Mistress," I panted.

"For?"

"For removing my gag, Mistress."

"Why do you think I did that?"

"So I, uh, can serve you with my mouth, Mistress."

"That's right, Jane. Are you ready to do that, to serve me with your mouth, your lips, your tongue?"

"Oh yes, Mistress, yes. Please, please let me."

I raised my head slightly as I spoke but immediately felt a firm tap on the back of my head. She obviously still had the riding crop in hand.

"I told you to keep your head down, cunt. Can't you obey the simplest instructions?"

"Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry."

"Yes, you are sorry. That's why I cropped your ass and that's why you're on your knees with your hands chained behind your back. You're pitiful, Jane. Why should I think that you can do anything right, huh?"

I could feel and hear her walking around me.

"Please, Mistress. Give me the chance to please you. I want to so much."

"Let's see then. Come forward; crawl to me."

I inched forward on my knees for a couple of feet, until she told me to stop.

"Head down, slave."

"Yes, Mistress."

She unbuckled the blindfold and drew it away from my eyes. I blinked to adjust to the dim light – the room was now illuminated only by candles – but made sure to keep my eyes to the floor.

"Thank you, Mistress, for removing my blindfold," I said softly.

"You're welcome, Jane. Now, what do you see?"

Under my face she placed her right foot, covered in an ultra-shiny black patent-leather boot with sharply pointed toe and wickedly tall, thin heel. I had seen her wear the boots of couple of times before; I knew they rose high on her calves, almost to her knees, and had silvery zippers in back.

"Your boot, Mistress."

"What does a slave do to her mistress's boot, Jane?"

"Lick it."

"What? I didn't hear you."

"A slave licks her mistress's boot, Mistress."

"That's right. … Go on."

I lowered my mouth to the toe of the boot and gently kissed it, then ran my tongue over it in a circular motion. She then raised the front of the boot off the floor and told me to lick the underside. I did, then, driven by a desire whose source I did not know or want to know, I slowly ran my tongue along the thin crevice between the boot's upper and sole.

"Very nice, slave," she said as she slid her foot away from me. "Maybe I'll let you suck on the heels later. You know, some slaves like to be stepped on by mistresses wearing high heels or boots. Would you like that, Jane? Is that one of your sick desires?"

"No, Mistress, no, I don't think I would like that."

"Oh, we'll have to try it then. But not now. I have something else in mind."

I knew she was standing in front of me, with her feet just out of my down-cast line of vision. I could hear her tapping the riding crop into one of her gloved hands. Though it was probably only a few seconds, waiting to find out what she hand in mind was driving me crazy.

Then she placed the tip of the crop under my chin and slowly guided my head upward.

"I've decided to let you see at me," she said, withdrawing the crop. "Don't make me regret it."

As I lifted my face I saw, just inches in front of me, the knee-high patent boots, then sheer black stockings topped with bands of lace at her thighs, then a black thong from which wisps of her pubic hair crept out on the sides, then a just a bit of bare stomach, then her black-gloved hands holding the crop, then a black-on-black bustier with cups that barely covered her nipples while lifting her breasts into sumptuous mounds, then a short strand of thin black pearls around her neck, then her face with intimidating dark eye makeup, rouged cheeks and deep burgundy lips, and then her hair, slick and glistening and pulled back severely into a short ponytail. She looked at me with electricity in her eyes and an evil grin on her lips. She was a vision of power, dominance, superiority, seen from a position of abject submission.

"Do you like what you see, slave?"

"Oh yes, Mistress. You are beautiful."

"Some think the mistress dressed in black is a clichι," she said as she moved the tip of the crop to my face, "but I prefer to think of it as classic. You agree, don't you, Jane?"

"Yes, Mistress. You look incredible in black, so sexy and … wicked."

"Did you say wicked? Well, how nice of you to think of me that way."

She thrust the tip of the riding crop to my lips.

"Kiss this wicked riding crop, slave. Kiss and taste the leather that I used to whip your sissy ass."

I kissed the tip of the crop then, as she shifted it, licked the stiff thin shaft.

"Good girl," she said, then turned her back to me and walked toward the room's armchair. I stared at the firm, round cheeks of her lovely ass and saw the thin rear strip of the throng disappear into her crack as she stepped. When she got to the chair dropped the riding crop on the rug, spread her legs wide, leaned forward and placed her hands on the chair's arms, looked at me over her left shoulder and said, "Crawl to me, slave. Crawl until I tell you to stop."

I inched forward on my knees, my gaze fixed on her tantalizing rear. I crept closer and closer; only when my face was right up to her butt did she tell me to stop.

"Now kiss my ass, slave. Kiss my right cheek, then the left, softly, respectfully."

I did, and she instructed me to do it again.

"This demonstrates your devotion to me," she said, then thrust her ass back toward me.

"Do it again, one more time."

Having her ass right in my face was humiliating and exhilarating. I kissed each cheek with as much devotion as I could convey.

She moved her legs a bit closer together then said: "Good. Now remove my panty."

I lifted my head and gently bit the thong where the rear strip met the waistband. Once I had what I thought was a good grip, I began to pull it down. I had to run my nose down her crack to get the thong over her ass cheeks but I managed, then drew it down her thighs and calves and ankles to the floor. She stepped out of the thong and I raised myself back up, fully expecting to be instructed to lick her hole. But instead she turned around and sat on the edge of the chair's cushion. She spread her knees and beckoned to me.

"Come closer, bitch. Come to my pussy."

Again I inched forward on my knees.

"Oops, I seemed to have dropped the riding crop. Oh, here it is. Pick it up and give it to me."

I only had to move a few inches and bend forward to get to the crop. I picked it off the floor with my teeth then moved back toward Lydia.

She pulled the crop from my mouth then used it to direct my head right to her crotch.

"It's time to pleasure me, slave. And I expect you to do a better job than you did this afternoon. … Put your sissy face on my pussy and eat me, slut. Eat me until I tell you to stop."

I eased my face forward and kissed the insides of her thighs and her pubic hair and her pussy lips before sliding my tongue into her slit.

"That's it, that's a good girl," she whispered as I licked her with thoughtless abandon. "Yes, that's my pussy slave. … You know what your mistress likes and you know how to do it. … Oh God yes, you bitch, you nasty bitch."

I pulled my head back for just a second to get some air, and quickly heard a short whoosh and felt the bite of the crop on the small of my back.

"I didn't tell you to stop, slut. Do your job. Eat me."

I returned my mouth to her moist, pungent cunt. She moved the riding crop down to the rear seam of my panties then pressed it into the crack of my ass and drove me forward.

"Yes, doll, come on, do it, do it. Bury your tongue in me."

I licked her furiously, applying special energy to her clit. She shifted her legs and pressed her thighs to my head, locking my face to her pussy. I was aware only of her cunt, her thighs, the crop pressing against my ass and the aching, almost painful stiffness of my cock.

"Now, yes, that's it, bitch," she grunted, and began to rock her hips and squeeze my head tighter between her thighs. "There, yes, do it there." She began to tap the crop against my seared ass, softly first, then harder and harder. "Make me come right now, bitch, right now … right now … right now!"

She let out a piercing shriek and her body shuddered and rocked violently and she whacked me faster and harder and she clamped her legs tighter and tighter to my head until I thought I was going to suffocate in her orgasm.

But while I could still breathe, while I was still conscious, her panting and rocking gradually subsided and she relaxed her legs muscles and released my head from their grasp.

"Oh, you bitch, you fucking cunt-lapping bitch," she sighed as she grabbed my hair and pushed and pulled my face across her crotch. Then she pushed my head away.

"Jane, Jesus, you do know how to make a woman feel good," she said, now with her gloved hands between her legs. "When I tell my girlfriends what an excellent pussy eater you are I know they won't believe me. But that doesn't matter, because you're my pussy slave, right?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said between hurried breaths.

"Oooh, I like this, Jane, I like this very much. I think we've found your ideal role. You do love worshipping my pussy, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress, I do."

"And you would eat me again right now if I told you to."

"Of course, Mistress."

"Of course, Jane. But as tempting as that is, as much as I would enjoy locking your head between my thighs once again, I think we should move on. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of opportunities to go down on me this weekend."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now you just wait right there, missy. I'm going to change my attire a bit. I'll be back to you in a second."

I heard some noises behind me, then after only a minute or so Lydia instructed me to turn toward her. I did, awkwardly on my knees. She was standing about six feet away, near the foot of the bed, with her gloved hands on her hips.

"Do you like what I have on now?" she asked.

There was only one change in what she was wearing. Where her thong had been before there was a harness made of soft-looking black leather. And protruding from the front of that harness was a dildo, a black dildo longer and wider than any of the few I had encountered before.

"Well, do you like it, Jane?"

"Y-y-yes, Mistress," I stammered.

"Then come over. Come over and give my big dick a big wet kiss."

I struggled toward her on my knees. The slightly curved black phallus, nearly at eye level, grew more imposing, more threatening with each movement forward.

"You've never experienced a strap-on, have you, Jane?" she said as she stroked her right hand up and down the length of the shaft.

"N-no, Mistress, I haven't."

"You'll soon find out what you've been missing."

When I got to within about a foot in front of her she told me to stop. She reached over to the bed and took up a rather short length of chain with a leather loop at one end: a leash. She held the loop in her left hand and attached the other end of the chain to the ring at the front of my collar.

"And what about this? Have you been on a leash before, slave?"

"N-no, Mistress."

"A leash is for a pet, and that's what you are, Jane. My pet."

"Yes, Mistress."

She moved her left hand back, taking most of the slack out of the chain, then snarled: "Kiss my cock, bitch."

I inched forward until the dildo, which had to be at least eight inches long, was right before my lips. I closed my eyes and kissed its bulbous black head.

"Good girl. Now tell me, Jane, when you came over here today, did you even consider the possibility that before the night was over you'd have boobs and I'd have a dick?"

"No, Mistress."

"That you'd be my pussy slave?"

"No, Mistress."

"My dildo whore?"

"No, Mistress."

"Well that's what you are right now, Jane. You're my dildo slut. You adore my cock."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Say it."

"I'm your dildo slut. I adore your cock."

"Beg me to let you suck it."

"Mistress Lydia, please let me suck your cock."

"I said beg."

"Mistress Lydia, please allow me the privilege of sucking your big, wide, hard cock. Please. I beg you."

"Much better. Very well. Go ahead. Suck it."

I eased my mouth over the tip and ran my tongue around its head. She wriggled her hips enough to cause the rubbery cock to bounce in my mouth. I bit down on it to hold it in. I felt the weight of my own dick pressing against my lace and satin panties.

"That's a good slut. Lick that cock. Suck it. … That's the biggest cock you've ever had in your mouth, isn't it, bitch?"

I nodded, which moved the dildo deeper into my mouth. She pulled on the leash.

"And you know where it's going next, don't you? Don't you?"

I nodded again, and gagged slightly as the tip of the cock touched the back of my mouth. She put her right hand on top of my head and pushed it downward.

"Then you'd better lick it good, all over. Get your mouth on all of it, bitch. Get it nice and wet, as wet as you can, so it will hurt just a little bit less when I drive it into your tight little sissy ass."

She tugged on the leash again, drawing the chain straighter. I licked and sucked away, desperately. She couldn't, I thought, fuck me with this cock without some lubricant other than my saliva, she just couldn't. My panties were squooshy from the lubricant that had been seeping from my ass ever since the plug had been removed, but that wouldn't be enough to keep this dong from doing severe rear damage, would it?

"Keep going, bitch. Show me how much you love my cock. Show me how much you want it inside you. … Oh, Jane, don't you wish you had a pussy? Don't you wish you could feel this big nasty dick inside your very own cunt? … Or would you prefer that it were a real cock in your mouth?"

I didn't allow myself to contemplate any of those questions. I merely kept on licking and sucking and biting the dildo. Then she dropped the leash from her hand, letting the chain flop against me, and put both hands on my head to hold it still. Then she began rocking her hips, thrusting them so the cock slid back and forth inside my mouth, back and forth, back and forth.

"I'm fucking your mouth, Jane. Before I fuck you in the ass I'm fucking you in the mouth. You're such a slut that just sucking the cock isn't enough for you, you have to have your mouth fucked, too, right? Right?"

I made some kind of guttural noise in response. Then, startlingly, she shoved my head away and rocked her hips back and the black cock slid from my mouth. I coughed spit after the dildo passed my lips.

"There, there, missy. The cock's out of your mouth for now."

"Th-thank you, Mistress," I wheezed.

"How did that make you feel, Jane, having that big dick in your mouth."

"L-like a slut, Mistress."

"That's right, Jane, because you are a slut. Remember that: You're a shameless, helpless slut. A boot-licking slave. A cunt-eating dildo whore."

She's absolutely right, I thought. "Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Now you want me to pull down your pretty white panties and fuck your ass, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress. I do, I do. … Please fuck me. … Please fuck me in the ass with your big hard cock."

"What are you, Jane?"

"Your slave, Mistress. Your whore, your slut."

She yanked on the leash and told me to get up. I struggled to my feet.

"You should be raped on the floor like the miserable slut you are," she said with a short laugh as she pulled me forward. "But that wouldn't be comfortable for me, so I'm going to give you the privilege of getting fucked on my bed."

When she had me standing at the side of the bed she let go of the leash, left me for a second and returned with the ball gag and blindfold.

"Open up," she barked as she brought the ball to my mouth. "A gagged slave can't beg for mercy."

She buckled the gag in place as tightly as possible then put the blindfold over my eyes and secured it, too.

"You've seen all you need to see, bitch."

Then, to my surprise, she unhooked my wrists from one another. But she quickly drew my hands in front of me and refastened them, then shoved me onto the bed.

"Get up on all fours, and face this way," she said, pulling forward me by the hair.

I felt her pick up the chain leash and heard her secure it to the head rail.

"That's it. Now, head down, ass up."

I pressed my forehead to the bed cover and lifted my hips up and back. She roughly yanked the high heels off my feet and tossed them to the floor, then released the clasp that held my cuffed ankles together.

"Now you can spread 'em for me. Go ahead, move your knees out, open up."

She got up on the bed behind me and slowly, teasingly pulled my panties down.

"Oooh, your ass is lovely raw pink from the riding crop," she said as she placed her gloved hands on my cheeks and began rubbing. "I bet you can still feel the stinging."

Then she sharply slapped my right cheek – once, twice, a third time. I grunted in reaction to the pain.

"Now wiggle it, Jane. Wiggle your hot slut ass for me as I grease up my cock with lubricant, lots and lots of it, all the way down to the base, because you're going to be getting every inch of this cock, missy, every single inch of it in your hole."

I moved my hips side to side, back and forth. My hard cock and swelled balls knocked against the insides of my thighs. My breathing got heavier, faster. I felt drool escaping from my gagged mouth.

"That's it, whore. Move it good. Show me how much you want my cock up your ass. … This is the moment you've been looking forward to, Jane. You can't fool me. I know you. This your fantasy, to be on your knees bound, gagged and blindfolded, with your panties pulled down and bare ass in the air waiting for your mistress to fill your tight little hole with a big and nasty strap-on cock. … You're ashamed of yourself for wanting it so bad, for craving it, but you can't help yourself. That's who you are. You simply have to have it. You absolutely need my cock up your ass."

Yes, at that moment, I did absolutely need to be fucked by her. That terrified me.

"Here it comes, bitch," Lydia snarled. I felt her moving toward me. "The big cock you've wished for, the ass fucking you've dreamed about."

I felt the wet, cool tip of the dildo against my puckered hole. A rumbling rose up my throat and emerged as a muffled groan.

She pushed. The cock's slick rounded head slid into me, then a bit of the veined shaft. It felt huge. She paused. I rocked my hips and moaned into my gag.

"Yes, I know you want it all inside you, slut. Don't worry. You'll get it. But I'm going to fuck you my way."

She guided the dildo in deeper, then started to buck it back and forth a bit.

"This is going in nice, Jane, real nice. The dildo this afternoon and the butt plug this evening opened you up a bit, I think. But not too much. No, your hole is still nice and tight."

She thrust her pelvis forward. I grunted and panted and wriggled.

"Are you getting hot over my cock, Jane? Is it turning you on like nothing ever has? You love it, don't you? Yes, you love it. You love having my cock up your ass. But don't get too excited while I'm fucking you, slut. Don't you dare cum. No matter how hot you get don't you dare shoot your mess on my bed."

She put her hands on my hips and drove the phallus in deeper and deeper still, filling me, touching new places, creating new sensations. That had to be all of it, I thought. There couldn't be any more of the dildo; I couldn't take any more of the dildo.

I was wrong.

She bulled forward again, ramming more of the cock into my hole. The feeling was intense, unreal, like I was being split in half. A primitive groan surged up from deep inside me.

"Feel good, missy? Yeah, you've got all eight inches in you, slut, all eight inches of my cock. Now I'm going to use every inch to fuck the living shit out of you."

She started pumping her hips back and forth, slowly at first, then faster and harder, harder and faster. Again and again. Faster and harder. Then smoothly, rhythmically. The pain – if that's what it was – was unique and enveloping. I totally lost my bearings, my contact with reality. Lydia's urgings and curses and moans and my own cries and whimpers became faint background noise. I had no thoughts. I was aware of nothing but the feeling in my tight, hot asshole of the jamming, probing, ramming object that was ravaging and ruling me.

Her rhythmic pumping continued for God knows how long. Then it stopped, replaced by short, quick thrusts, then irregular pulls and jerks. I was overwhelmed by the exquisite discomfort and the feeling of being totally conquered.

"Oh, you fucking bitch," she panted. "You fucking slut bitch!"

Her body trembled and she moaned loudly. Christ, I thought, she was getting off. She was fucking me and she was having an orgasm. I think I expected to feel cum spurt from the head of the dildo. I did feel tears collecting inside my blindfold.

"Oh, Jane, Jane, having my cock in your ass is heaven," Lydia sighed as her movements gradually subsided. "You made me cum, you nasty bitch, you made me cum while inside you."

I could feel her body slacken, and she paused for a moment before beginning to ease the dildo out of me.

"I could fuck you all night, doll, but now I'm going to pull my cock out of you, nice and easy. Just hold your ass still."

With her hands on my hips, she withdrew the dildo slowly and carefully, creating another new and unexplainable sensation inside my ass. I felt incredibly relieved but also regrettably empty when the last of the slickened shaft emerged from my hole.

"There, missy. Now you know how it feels to be filled, to be penetrated, to be impaled. I hope you liked getting fucked as much as you thought you would."

She pulled my panties back up and told me to lie down on my back.

"You can relax there for a minute," she said as she moved up to the head of the bed on my left side and unhooked the leash from my collar. "But don't you dare slide those hands down to your panties, understand?"

I nodded as I tried to regain my breath. I heard a rustle, then the sound of a buckle being undone, and turned my head toward the noise.

"I'm taking off my cock harness, Jane. No more strap-on play, for the moment, at least. … But I'm going to share a little secret with you. This harness works both ways. Outside there's the big black cock, as you know. But inside, hidden away, is a sweet little stimulator that feels absolutely wonderful, especially when it's right on my clit. Isn't that so delightfully clever? They even make on that also has a rear dildo. Hmm, I bet that's the one you'd want."

Lydia put her hands on my wrists and undid the clasp that connected them but immediately drew my hand up above and away from my head and attached the wrist cuff's D-ring to the bed's head rail. Then she got off the bed, walked around it, and then grabbed my right wrist and secured it the same manner.

"Bound to my bed again, just like this afternoon," she said as she pulled my right leg and clasped its ankle cuff to a chain at the foot of the bed. "But as much as you enjoyed that, this is going to be a little different,"

She pulled on and locked my left leg, leaving me spread-eagled. I tried to move my wrists and ankles but there was little slack in my bonds. I was chained down tight.

"You know, Jane, the big disadvantage in having a sissy slut like yourself instead of a true female slave is that you don't have a cunt. You can guess how much I'd love to fuck and torture your pussy, and how much you'd love it, too. Can you imagine having three cocks inside you – in your mouth, your ass, and your cunt – at the same time? Oooh, that would be something, wouldn't it, missy?"

I felt her get up on the bed between my legs.

"On the other hand, your not being a true girl does offer an attractive feature – your sissy clit," she said as she slid her hands up my thighs and onto my panties. "A nice and big and hard sissy clit. I definitely can do something with this."

She teasingly took hold of the front of my panties and pulled them down as far as they would go on my spread thighs. Then I felt her loop something – a thin rubber tube, perhaps – around the base of my cock behind my balls and tie it.

"That should help keep this clit just the way I like it."

I then heard a gentle tearing sound, and experienced the unmistakable feeling of a condom being placed on and rolled down my stiff dick. But as she put it on me, it felt thicker, heavier, tighter than a regular prophylactic.

"You like this rubber on your clit, bitch? I certainly do. It's bright pink, for one thing, just like your lipstick and nail polish and ball gag. And I know it'll feel great inside my pussy, but for you, well, it's made especially so you'll feel as little as possible."

When she had the condom on all the way, she gave my cock a couple of quick slaps. I moaned.

"I didn't say you wouldn't feel anything, just as little as possible. … Now get ready for another kind of fucking, slut."

She climbed over me; I felt her thighs against mine, the weight of her body on me.

At last, I was going to be inside her. Finally, my teased and tortured cock was going to enter her sweet, hot pussy.

She took hold of my dick with her right and guided it to her cunt. It slipped in with ease and I reveled in the feeling of being enveloped by her. She placed her hands behind her on my thighs and began to rock slowly. Each movement sent a quick wave of delight through my body. The tight, thick condom seemed to be adding to, not detracting from, the sensation.

"Hmmm, that's nice," she purred. "But don't you dare cum inside me, slave, no matter how good it feels to you. You know what happens if you squirt without my permission and you don't want that, do you?"

I shook my head. She began rocking harder. I tried to lift my hips to meet her thrusts but she drove my body down with force. She was not about to yield even the slightest bit of control.

I cursed the fucking cuffs and blindfold and gag. The more she pumped her body on me the more I wanted to touch her, see her, kiss her, the more I wanted to fuck her, instead of it being the other way around.

"Ooohhh, ooohhh, yes, bitch, yes. Oh, you fuck good Jane, your slut clit fucks real good." She was driving onto me now, hard, fast. Her hands were off me; I pictured them on her tits. "I'm going to cum on top of you, bitch, I'm going to cum …"

Her body rocked and quivered and writhed. The muscles of her cunt squeezed my cock.

"Now, bitch, now, I'm going to cum … I'm going to cum … I'm … I'm … oh yes, fuck, yes, yes, oooowwww!"

The intensity of her orgasm was shattering. My trapped cock seemed to swell with each violent movement. I had to cum, I was going to explode, I couldn't stop it.

"Now, slave, do it now," she panted. "Cum inside me. Do it. Fill that rubber with your nasty mess. Cum, cum from being fucked, cum from having your clit fucked."

She yanked on the tube around the base of my cock and pulled it off.

"Do it … do it. … Cum, slave, cum."

I roared into the gag as my dick spasmed with the long-delayed ejaculation. I burst, I erupted into the condom. Oh, God, what a feeling! What a fucking fantastic feeling! All else vanished; in that overwhelming moment, there was nothing but my spurting cock.

Some time later, after she had collapsed onto me and was running her hands over my bra and waist cincher, Lydia whispered, "Mmmmm. Fucking a totally helpless slave slut is absolutely delectable. And judging from your reaction, being the totally helpless slave slut ain't bad either."

I could only moan softly.

She shifted her position and put her hands to my head.

"Here, missy, I think you've been gagged long enough. Turn your head to the side so I can unbuckle it."

"Th-thank you, Mistress," I sighed after she pulled the gag from my mouth.

"You're welcome, Jane. You performed very well, for a novice slut. You were even able to control yourself until I gave you my permission to cum."

"Yes, Mistress."

"I'm going to take the rubber off you now," she said as she slid down on the bed. "Hold still. I don't want to hurt your clit or spill anything."

I felt her fingers grasp the bottom of the condom and delicately draw it off my sapped cock. Then I felt her moving her body back up toward my head.

"This condom is brimming with your hot, nasty cum, Jane. You really spurted a full load tonight. … It will be fun to watch you swallow it."

I felt the weighted tip of the rubber against my right cheek. I turned my face away and blurted, "Oh, please, Mistress!"

"That's very good, Jane. Asking to drink your cum."

"Oh, please, no, Mistress, please, not …"

"Not what? You tasted it this afternoon. This is no different, except there's more of it for you to drink. Open your mouth."

"Oh, God, no, I …"

She slapped me and barked, "Shut the fuck up, bitch! You're a slave and you're going to drink your cum. Right now. Are you going to obey me or do I have to jam this rubber it into your slut mouth and force it down your throat?"

"No, Mistress, no, please … I'll obey."

"Then open your mouth."

I did. She held it wide with her right hand. I felt drops at first, then a gooey stream of warm, thick fluid fall onto my tongue. I couldn't help but cough.

"None of that. C'mon, lap it up. Lap up your slave cum."

As she poured more and more into my mouth I had to start swallowing to keep from gagging. I took it all in and swallowed as fast I could, trying to get the ordeal over as quickly as possible, trying to think of anything but what I was actually doing.

"A few last drops for my cum-eating slut. … Getting to like the taste, Jane?"

She moved her hand away from my mouth. I swallowed the last of it, then ran my tongue over my lips and the inside of my mouth to get rid of it, the taste, the idea, all of it.

"That's a good girl. But next time, not so fast. You have to learn to savor it."

"Y-yes, Mistress. Next time."

Lydia laughed and got off the bed. I felt and heard her release the chains that held my wrist cuffs, then my ankle restraints. My arms and legs were numb; I had to work to move them.

"I'm done with you for now, Jane" she said. "You may pull your panties up and remove your blindfold."

I did, and when my eyes adjusted to the dim light I saw Lydia standing at the foot of the bed, naked except for her boots, stockings and string of pearls. She caught me staring at her bare breasts.

"Come here, Jane, and I'll help you off with your corset."

I crawled down the bed, turned my back to her and knelt. When she undid the hooks from the eyelets and pulled the waist cincher off my torso, my ribs and lungs seem to expand instantly, much to my relief.

"There. That better? Now get down and take off my boots."

I scrambled off the bed, a bit unsteadily, and got on my knees in front of her. I reached around her left leg and carefully pulled down the boot's zipper, then gently pulled it off her. I repeated the process with the right boot.

"Now my stockings. And don't put a run in them."

I gingerly slid the sheer stockings down her marvelous legs and succeeded in not causing any damage to them.

"Now, Jane, pick up all the toys and chains and put them in that bag over there," she said. "Then collect my bustier and your corset and put them on the dresser. Then place my boots in the closet."

"Yes, Mistress."

I completed the tasks and returned to her, head bowed.

"Now pick up any lingerie you see lying about and place it in the bathroom hamper. Then get undressed and put your bra, panties and hose in there, too. You'll be washing all those things tomorrow. Take off your earrings but leave on your cuffs and collar. Leave the bathroom door open. Use the toilet, then clean your face good – only cheap whores sleep with their makeup on – and wash out your filthy mouth. Be quick about it. Then come back here."

"Yes, Mistress."

I scurried around the room, picking up her black thong and stockings, the light blue panties she had worn earlier, my pink bra and panties, and took them into the bathroom. I peed sitting down then quickly washed up and rinsed out as instructed and returned to the bedroom naked.

"Good girl," said Lydia, now wearing the blue kimono-robe I had worn much earlier in the evening. "Here, have some wine. It'll help you sleep."

She held out the almost full glass to me.

"Thank you, Mistress," I said with a bow of my head as I took it from her.

"You don't have to sip it, Jane. Go ahead, drink it down."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, and downed it in a few swallows.

"There, now pick up your pretty shoes and come with me."

I put down the glass, picked up the white high heels and followed her down the short hallway toward the guest room.

"This will be your room, Jane," she said. "It wouldn't be right for a slave to share her lady's bedchamber, would it?"

"No, Mistress."

The room was plainly furnished with a dresser, desk, nightstand and double bed. What was on the bed's white cover caught my attention: a pale-pink baby doll nightie with matching lace-trimmed panties.

"There's your pajamas, sweetie. Put them on."

I put on the dainty panties first, then the short, sheer nightie, which was see-through except for the bra. I adjusted my breast forms until they were nestled in the softly molded cups.

"You look so cute in your little nightie, Jane. Does it feel good on you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Now give me your hands."

I held my hands out to her and she guided them up to my neck, where she clasped the D- rings of my cuffs to the one at the front of my slave collar.

I emitted a soft sigh.

"This will keep your hands out of your lacy pink panties. Little girls shouldn't touch themselves down there while they're in bed."

She then reached over to the nightstand and took up a long silky scarf, also pale pink, and brought it to my face.

"Please, Mistress," I blurted when I recognized that she was going to use it as a blindfold.

"Please what, Jane?"

"Please, Mistress. Must I be blindfolded?"

"Yes, slave. You must. Do you want to be gagged, too?"

"No, Mistress, it's just …"

"It's nothing. … Just think of it as a sleep mask, missy."

"Yes, Mistress."

She wrapped it around my head and tied it tightly in the back.

"There. Now you're ready for bed."

She guided me to the bed then gently pushed me onto it.

"Hope that's comfy, Jane. Do you want me to tuck you in?"

"N-no, thank you, Mistress."

"I want you to get a good night's sleep. You did fairly well today, Jane, but you have much more ahead of you tomorrow."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now if you have to go to the toilet in the middle of night, just go. You don't have to wake me up and get my permission."

"Yes, Mistress."

"That's it then. Do you have anything to say to me, Jane?"

"No, Mistress. Just good night."

"Nothing else?"

"Um, uh … thank you, Mistress."

"You're welcome, sweetie. Good night."

She kissed me softly on the forehead and stepped out of the room. I heard the door close behind her.

I let out a long, heavy sigh. I was off duty at last. Not exactly comfortable in the gag, cuffs, nightie and panties, but at least alone, with a chance to relax.

And though my body was sore in many places and I was exhausted both physically and mentally, I couldn't relax, never mind sleep. Thoughts of what I had experienced in the brief span since Friday afternoon raced relentlessly through my consciousness. My body tingled with all the recalled sensations of being shaved and dressed and slapped and penetrated. Sounds – Lydia's voice, the riding crop, my chains – and smells – the bath oil, the perfume, the lubricant – floated around my head. Emotions – lust, shame, desire, embarrassment – clashed in my brain. I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, unable to lie still.

Then a powerful urge hit me: I had to pee.

That was just great. No, I didn't have to get permission. All I had to do was negotiate my way across the room and down the hallway to the bathroom without being able to see, and do it without disturbing Lydia, who would surely devise some especially devious punishment if I awakened her. But the punishment would surely be far worse if I urinated in bed.

I tried to suppress the message from my bladder but couldn't. Nor could I ignore it. I carefully got off the bed. At least my ankles weren't chained.

I touched the front of my blindfold with my fingers and considered trying to pull it down. But I didn't, because I would surely pay for messing with it, because I didn't think I would have been able to get it back up over my eyes, and because seeing wouldn't be much help if I couldn't turn on a light, which I dared not do for fear of waking Lydia.

Using the side of the bed as a guide, I took small steps toward where I thought the door would be. I located it and its knob, which I was able to reach and turn with my hands by bending at the waist. I then padded my way down the straight hallway, trying to gauge how far it was to the bathroom.

I was only a little off. When I turned where I thought the bathroom door would be, I encountered the wall. But I did feel the door frame only inches ahead. Nonetheless, I stumbled a bit when I stepped in that direction.

"Jane! What are you doing?" Lydia called from her bed.

"G-going to the toilet, Mistress. I was trying to not wake you."

"Well you failed, you clumsy bitch. Go ahead, but don't make a racket, and don't make a mess, understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

As soon as my bare feet touched the cool tile of the bathroom floor I realized one thing: I couldn't reach my panties to pull them down.

"Shit!" I cursed in a whisper.

No, there was no way. I tried bending and twisting every way imaginable, but the best I could do was reach the waistband with the tips of my index fingers. Pulling the panties down far enough to pee was simply not possible.

"Fuck!" I said, almost out loud.

"Jane, what are you doing in there?"

"Nothing, I, uh …"

"What the fuck is your problem, bitch? Get in here. Immediately."

I found my way to her bedroom door as quickly as possible.

"Jesus, Jane. Can't you do anything?"

"N-no, Mistress, I, uh , I …"

"You what? What is your problem?"

I paused, then stammered for a second, then cast aside whatever last shred of dignity I had been able to retain and said meekly, "Mistress, I can't reach my panties. … Would you pull them down for me?"

She giggled, then laughed.

"Oh, my poor little girl needs to go wee-wee but she can't pull her underpants down and needs Mistress Lydia's help so she doesn't pee in her pink panties. … You're pitiful, Jane. Absolutely pitiful."

"Please, Mistress," I pleaded, the pressure inside me growing by the second. "I beg you."

She waited a few seconds then said, "All right. Come here."

I stepped toward her voice then felt her hands on my hips.

"Let this be a lesson to you, Jane. Remember that you are totally helpless without me. Remember that I control every aspect of your slave being. Remember that you can't even pee without my permission and assistance."

"Yes, Mistress. I will remember."

"You'd better," she snapped as she roughly yanked my panties down past my knees. "There, missy. You can go pee now. But if you make a mess in there you'll clean it up with your tongue."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Go then."

Humiliated beyond imagination, I stepped back to the bathroom and was able to locate the bowl, sit down and relieve myself without too much difficulty. I didn't, thank God, make any mess. I then returned to Lydia's bedroom.

"What should I do with you?" she said as I entered the room.

"I, uh, don't know, Mistress."

"Should I bend you over my knee and give your bare ass a good spanking for awaking me up?"

"If you wish, Mistress."

"Yes, I should. … But I don't feel like doing it right now. Remind me in the morning to punish you."

"Yes, Mistress."

"I suppose you want me to pull your panties back up."

"If you please, Mistress."

"Come over here."

I stepped toward her and stopped when I felt her hands on my legs. She guided the panties up and back into place then said, "Open your mouth."

I did.

"I don't need you waking me up again, Jane, so I'm going to gag you."

"Yes, Mistress."

She began to stuff something into my mouth.

"These are the panties I had on earlier this evening when I shaved you and did your hair and makeup and dressed you. I got them nice and damp, so you can have the privilege of sucking on my pussy juices the rest of the night."

She tied the moist and sour panty gag into place with what I guessed to be a scarf.

"Now get out of my sight, slave. Go to bed and stay there. Bother me again and you'll be spending your nights chained to the basement floor. Go!"

Absolutely numb with shame, I awkwardly made my way back down the corridor and to my bed. I curled up in my nightie and panties and got as comfortable as I could with the gag and blindfold and my wrists chained to my slave collar. I eventually fell asleep, but not before confronting a terrifying and tantalizing thought:

I had been under Lydia's control for only about 12 hours. My term as her sissy slave had three full days to run.

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