Message-ID: <21179asstr$942536426@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) X-Newsreader: Session Scheduler Subject: {ASSM} A Place of her Own by Vickie Tern 7/10 TG F/m Femdom X-Original-Message-ID: <19991111093913.25568.00000044@ngol02.aol.com> X-To: story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us JMDigest-Score: good -19 Date: Sat, 13 Nov 1999 18:40:26 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: assm-admin {Vickie Tern} NEW TG: A Place of Her Own 7/10, F/m, M/M etc, femdom This story depicts sexual activity of various sorts among consenting if sometimes also credulous and deceived adults. If you are not a consenting adult don't read it, no matter how credulous or deceived. It's not for you. Not yet. "No," I agreed. "Serving you is the center of my life. You're where my manhood and my womanhood converge, somehow." I don't think I'd ever spoken more sincerely to anyone! Tracy sensed this and was impressed. "Then let me complete you, sweetheart. For the next week, submit yourself to me altogether. Trust me no matter how difficult. We've been going slow, but I think now we can work together intensively for a breakthrough. Promise me you'll do everything I ask of you this week with the same devotion you've always shown me. No hesitation. Total obedience. No matter how outrageous, or unexpected, or shocking. Promise?" "I promise, Tracy. I really do." "Then next week we can change our relationship if you wish. But you won't wish. I've seen it before. I know. By the end of the week you'll be yourself, completed, beyond your wife's ability to change you further." Hidden away in our little booth, Tracy reached across the table and began to knead and finger my breasts, just as Tricia had done, feeling me up and hefting them. "You know she's right," Tracy said thoughtfully. "They're coming along nicely!" I melted into a pool of ecstasy. "Oh, Tracy honey!" I moaned. It sounded more like a whine. The next afternoon I was filing a client's project back to him by e-mail, brilliantly solved if I do say so, and at the same time teasing him for attempting to get me to disclose my phone number or address, when the phone rang. "Amy, this is Tracy. Tonight be downstairs by the doorman's desk at 5:30 sharp. You will be altogether submissive all evening, but don't let it show at any time in your posture, manner, or voice. Wear that black beaded cocktail dress and be made up for the evening. Hair up, high style. You're having dinner out and then going dancing." Well, this was a novelty! A companionable evening with Tracy during the week! I was there with a minute to spare and just sitting down carefully -- my dress was figure-hugging, now that I had a figure, and tight -- when Tracy arrived in the lobby dressed as she usually was weekdays, in an ankle-length skirt and her Field Hockey Champions yellow jacket. "He's in the car outside," she said to me. "Do everything he wants you to do, gladly. When you get back, stop by to tell me how it went." And she was in the elevator and gone! I went outside, and found a maroon Lincoln parked at the curb with a rather tall, thin, willowy man leaning against it. A touch of gray at his temples, but blonde wavy hair, in many ways still boyish. From the way he moved to open the door and hand me into the passenger seat, in many ways girlish? There was a lingering grace in the way he closed the door and walked around to ease himself into the driver's side, swinging his both legs into the car knees together, as if he were wearing a tight skirt. I waited for him to introduce himself. He glanced at me to be sure I was comfortable, a thin, arched eyebrow raised in inquiry, and then satisfied, drove off toward downtown. A plucked eyebrow? His hands on the steering wheel had manicured fingernails, rounded at the tip and gleaming with a clear gloss nail polish. No pierced ears, but his hair seemed to have been permed and just set, every hair beautifully in place. Don't speak unless spoken to, I told myself. The submissive's creed. And then when you reply, keep your eyes cast down. He pulled up in front of a workman's bar down the street from a construction project. A very mean part of town. A drunk wrapped in creased and oily rags lay on the sidewalk against a building, and as I watched he raised himself on an elbow and retched. Three teenagers sauntered past smirking arrogantly -- one, I noticed, held a length of steel pipe he slapped methodically against his palm as if to keep it functioning until it could find a better target. The bar itself seemed to be jammed with going-home customers delaying their trip home. Two men in overalls rolled out together, waved at each other, and weaved away. "If you don't mind, Amy," he said. No question, there was a lilt to his voice of the kind gay men cultivate, perhaps to identify themselves to each other. "There's a cigarette machine at the far end of the bar in there." He handed me some coins. "Be a dear and go in there and buy me a pack. Any brand." I got out of the car, feeling fearful. This was no place for a woman like me, dressed the way I was dressed. As soon as I entered all conversation ceased and two dozen rough-hewn men stared at me silently, then resumed more subdued conversations, while a dozen more tough men pondered what to do about my unexpected appearance in their midst, watching me through narrowed eyes. I had been a woman in public long enough now to spot instantly the three young men who were primed to make aggressive passes at anyone in skirts. They were already off the mark and heading for me. I moved quickly, keeping my eyes fixed steadfastly on the cigarette machine, and got there before they got to me. I inserted the coins and a package of Winstons slid into the trough. I picked it up, noticing that my red-jewel-like fingertips were a mockery here, where every man's hands were gnarled and stained, his fingernails bitten, cut, and filthy. I realized suddenly that I was a woman who had only one thing I could give them to save them the trouble of taking it, and that was my sole protection and advantage. They would reach for it. But I knew I was a man under my silky black pantyhose. My male genitals here were my death warrant, if anyone here found out I had them. Blow jobs if I need to, to survive, I thought to myself. I can manage blow jobs, somehow. But whatever else, I told myself, no one comes near my crotch or the hem of my dress. I turned daintily to leave the way I'd come in. "Hi, can I help you?" One of the young men had arrived and was smiling personably at me, at ease with himself and blocking my way. The other two were still en route, not yet positioned as secondary blockers. I had perhaps two seconds to act, or else I'd be caught up in a scenario that could easily end with my cock-teasing, broken male body draped on a fence down the street at that construction site. "No thank you, but it's kind of you to ask!" I said. Then feinted to the left, rolled my hips further left, darted sidestepping to the right, and slipped straight ahead. It worked. As when I'd played basketball many years earlier. Not attempting to dribble the Winstons, I trotted on my high heels back out the door, and as it swung shut I heard a roar of male laughter and someone saying "Boy, the Lakers could've used her this past year!" I got back into the car quickly, hoping that my strangely androgynous date had anticipated the need for a fast getaway. He had. With a faint whisper, the Lincoln shot down the street and around a corner. I handed him his cigarettes. He glanced at them, then tossed them out the window. "Amy honey," he said. He sounded apologetic, but he kept taking his eyes off the road to look into mine. He really seemed sincere. A decent man after all? "My wife told me to do that to you first thing, without a word spoken. So you'd know that if you don't do everything I tell you, there is where you'll finish the evening." I decided to play square with him. "That's a likely rape for a woman and a death sentence for a transvestite." I commented. "I've been told to do everything you want me to do gladly, and I will, because I'll want to do what I've been told. But not under threat. Never under threat. Your wife was not fully informed about me. Did she tell you to do anything else to me tonight?" "She told me everything I'm to do to you tonight. That's the kind of relationship we have." "I don't understand." "I obey my wife. I do whatever she wants me to do. Incidentally, you were in no real danger just now. They look like rough trade but they're really decent working class people, law-abiding and self-policing, and tolerant of all sorts of queers and oddities. She made me run the gamut there early in my training, when she was making me into a queer, and I was terrified. I thought I'd be beaten senseless. But all they did was pat my bottom a few times, and tease me about fudge packing, and buy me a few drinks. They were very friendly. You belong to my wife's dear friend Tracy, I know, so I know she wouldn't take any chances with your safety. And she's planned a long evening for us. She and Tracy seem to think we were made for each other." "How so?" "You're a man being made over into a woman by another woman, isn't that so? Right now a 'she-male'? Partly a woman?" "Yes. Partly in my body. Mostly in my mind." "Well, I'm a heterosexual being made gay by my wife, also not yet a finished product. That is, for months now the only physical affection and the only sex I've had has with other men. I've learned to appreciate my partners, and I did fall in love with one for a short time I think, a sweet man. It broke my heart when it turned out he was only toying with me. But in my mind, mostly I still prefer women." "Why would your wife do that to you?" "I had an affair with my secretary. She found out and got really vindictive. At first she said she was going to fix me while I was helpless, asleep, and then divorce me. That wasn't a generalized threat -- she meant to change my sexual habits for good, castrate me and pickle my cock in a jar. Well, she consulted her gynecologist about it -- Tracy, they've become good friends since then -- and Tracy suggested she do something more lingering and drawn out, so she could enjoy it longer. That she turn me gay instead. Allow me only homosexual encounters, in fact require I get off only with men. So I'll get to like it. Well, divorce would ruin me financially -- I've borrowed heavily to get a business launched -- so I've been going along with her. I have no choice." He shook his head, clearing some random memory. "Was your becoming a woman your wife's idea?" I didn't know how to answer that one. "Yes and no. It was my idea for now and then, but now I live in my wife's reality, and she made my femininity pretty much irreversible. I accept that. I even like it." "You're good at it. You're very pretty, Amy. I can't help but think that you're a girl when I look at you!" That was my first compliment ever from a boy! My heart turned over. "Thank you!" was all I said. I know he saw I looked pleased, and I wanted him to know. "Thank you...ahhh...you've forgotten to tell me your name!" "No, I didn't forget. It's just that I'm embarrassed by it. It's Sally." "Sally?" "Yes. My wife's name. She's Sally and I'm hers, so I'm Sally too. Like wearing a house label, in a way. She had my name changed legally. It saves complications. Women don't take me seriously when I tell them, but gay men do." "Well, thank you, Sally. You're very sweet." I looked at him more closely. He also looked like a decent man, intelligent, capable, and more refined than effete. Though he was struggling to get accustomed to gay mannerisms. He pulled in at one of the best restaurants in Madison. This arranged date was going very well! As we waited at the bar for our table, I found I was smiling and nodding continuously, and shaking my head flirtatiously, and looking sidelong at him, all in the oddest girlish way. I even hoped my hair was orderly, though I knew it was, and kept patting it with both hands. Which, I notice, thrust my breasts forward as if I was offering them to him. Maybe I was? "I thought people are born gay or hetero, maybe bi, and that's that! Why does your wife think you'll change?" "She doesn't. She hopes I won't. Tracy suggested hypnotic tapes to help me admire male bodies more, but my wife likes my doing it out of obedience to her. She likes to think gay sex is repellent to me, but I find it's better than no sex at all." "Is it?" Sally looked down and said in a low voice, "I did fall in love that one time, briefly. It felt oddly perverse, but maybe I really do swing both ways. Or maybe I was just hard up. Mostly, I'm sure, I was lonely. But my wife thinks it's all punishment." He took a deep breath. "I've never told any woman any of this, Amy. Not even the fag hags who are the only kinds of women she'll let me see socially these days." He looked up at me. "I can't help thinking that you're a woman. This is the first date with a beautiful woman I've had since I was married." Why did my heart warm when he said that? I took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Thank you again," I said. "You're very sweet. You'll turn my head with these compliments." He forced himself to look into my eyes. "I hope so," he said. Then looked away. When we were seated and had ordered another round, there came an awkward pause. I remembered the advice always given to teenaged girls, "Get him talking about himself." So I said, in as gentle a voice as I could make audible, "Sally honey, what do you do?" "Management consultant. I help people set up businesses. Or if business is good, I help them enlarge." He lapsed into silence. Obviously the topic bored him. So I tried another tack. "Tell me about your first gay experience. If it wasn't too awful." "It wasn't much of anything. My wife sent me to a gay bar and told me not to come home until I'd been laid. I had the sense to pick up a tube of K-Y, and sort of anesthetized my body in my mind, and went. I almost don't remember it. When I got home, she insisted on inspecting, on seeing the cum actually dribble out of my ass. It did, the man had used me several times. And that really turned her on!" "Oh?" "Yes, the next night she sent me back for more. To offer to suck off all comers. And swallow their cum. I was lucky it was an off night. Probably not more than two dozen men lined up in front of my mouth. The first few felt and tasted terrible, and made me feel so ... cheap! But by the time I was servicing the last of them that night I was an expert, and rather proud of it. I didn't even have to think about it any more. The third night was for sixty-nining, so I'd get pleasure from getting my own cock sucked by another man. And I did. And the fourth was for me to fuck someone else, but no one volunteered, so I had to pay to get into a guy's ass. A bony ass it was, too, but I did get off, and that felt great!" "So now I'm educated, a seasoned and experienced gay man, she figured, and she arranged a graduation ceremony for me for the fifth night. A gang bang. A "cum enema" she called it. Well, you probably know that after the first cock has opened up your ass, the rest are easy." "No, I didn't know that," I said modestly, trying to butter a small piece of bread with fetching delicacy. "Though I know it's true about dildoes. My wife sent me off into femininity by letting me screw her butt as a farewell gift, and Tracy has been training my pussy -- as she calls it -- to enjoy itself, but I've never been with a man." Sally looked surprised, concerned, and pleased, all at once. Just the reaction I'd hoped to see! "It's easy," he repeated. "The first time, the man needs to be gentle and understanding, as with any virgin. Then the next time he enters, the asshole is already slick, lubricated with cum, and the muscles are loose. That's when both parties can relax and enjoy it. Some guys' cocks are long enough to press against the prostate from the inside so you can actually get off. Two guys actually did get me off. It felt wonderful. Like a woman coming, Sally my wife told me afterward. All at once, all through your whole body, inside you. That was when I realized I could like getting laid. Taking male lovers. I prefer fucking another man or giving him head, but I can enjoy being someone's punk. Not that I'll let Sally know that, of course." "I've never given head. I've never done any of these things," I said shyly, and a little timorously. "Not with a real live person. Not with a real man." "You're a dear!" Sally told me. This time he took both of my hands in his. "I don't care what my wife told me, or what Tracy expects. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do! So you can rest easy on that score." Then I shocked myself! "No, you don't understand, Sally," I said. "I want to do all of those things. With you. I really do. Now!" He looked at me with such longing in his eyes. "Really, pretty lady? You're sure? You'd be the first woman I've slept with in ... so long!" That cinched it. "I'm sure! With you!" I said. I leaned over the table and kissed him on the lips. Gently. They felt warm and soft. Four minutes later Sally had settled the bill and we were in each others' arms in his car. His big, beautiful Lincoln. He pushed his tongue deep into my mouth, and I tongued and licked it while feeling his arms embrace me. "My place," I said, my arms folded tightly around his neck. I didn't want to let go! "Hurry!" He looked down on me. "Honey, I can't drive while you're wrapped around me," he said, smiling slightly. We clinched again as soon as the elevator door closed, and we were both naked before we reached my bed. I was so grateful for my real breasts -- Sally immediately concentrated his attention on them, and I went into ecstasies. I had never before been suckled by anyone, and this darling man's mouth overwhelmed me. I clutched his head to them in bliss. I felt so ashamed of my penis and testicles down there when I should have been able to offer him his choice of holes. I tried to cover them at first, but then realized that he was now accustomed to seeing equipment like mine on his lovers. In fact he told me later that he had never noticed them at all. On the other hand, he was mesmerized by my estrogen-padded rump. He told me I had the most darling buttocks he had ever seen, not lean like a man's but ripe, rounded as basketballs and smooth as pillows. Then something unexpected occurred. I was standing there naked while he held my buttocks and I held his, feeling his hard cock press against my groin. I decided that this was the cock that would make me a cock sucker. I would drink whatever joy juice I could seduce from him and count myself blessed. Then, while he was still slick and wet from my mouth he would enter me. He would travel the path of that huge dildo Tracy and her friends had pushed into my guts, and he would anoint my insides with his semen. It seemed heavenly! "I want to suck your cock, darling," I said to him, not as a demeaned man but as a woman rejoicing in her lover. He whispered back, hoarsely, "Yes, but first let me kiss that glorious ass!" I nodded, and he dropped to his knees and clasped me by the thighs, and buried his face in my melons. I could feel his tongue begin to lick the opening of my crack, and I wanted to feel him deeper down. But as he burrowed his face into my ass a primal impulse took possession of me. I stood casually on one leg, put a hand on my hip, and looked down over his crouched shoulders with hooded eyes. Then in a hoarse voice I commanded "Deeper, honey. Bury your nose in my ass and push your tongue into me!" What an idea! But he did it! I cocked my hips slightly back to open my bungle to his mouth, and he spread my cheeks wide, and he plunged in! I felt his tongue tickling the outer edges of my pussy as I stood there aloof, dominating. I accepted his worship! Just as Tracy had accepted mine that first night, when she had injected me and started me irreversibly down this lovely path, and I had gratefully kissed her mound in return. What had happened to me? Months of hormones had given me more than breasts and buttocks and smoother skin. It had awarded me a woman's power over men. Some men, anyhow. When I could feel my entire rear soaked in his saliva, so his cock could slide into me with no friction, I told him. "Now suck my cock." I knew he would. I wanted to learn from his technique, now that the moment had come for my own mouth to wrap itself around his. He pulled back his head, and I turned my torso indolently, and he plunged his mouth over my dick and began to pull on it with his lips. He was wet and warm and it felt good. Even better than good, it began to feel a certain yearning that intensified -- I could feel my sap rising from the roots. Higher, and I felt a deep pulsing down in my groin, and it too rose in crescendo. Then wave after wave of rapture washed over me, and finally I felt deep satisfaction, even serenity. Sally swallowed once and removed his mouth. I was as small as ever. "Didn't I get hard?" I asked. "Didn't you taste my cum?" "No, you didn't get hard, and yes, one drip came out. I've seen it before. Those girl juices they've been giving you have just about dried up your boy juices, honey. You really are becoming a woman! Just look at you!" "I suppose," I said. I was a little worried. Would I never get an erection again? I looked down and I saw a little tumescence. Like a clit's. But my orgasm had felt marvelous even so! A woman's! It had washed though my whole body. I was a woman. "Let me suck your cock, lover," I said. "Lie down on the bed." I was unwilling just yet to give up my superior status as a woman by kneeling in front of him. So I lay down next to him, then wrapped my legs around his head. He resumed licking my anus. I took his cock into my mouth, and tongued it, and licked it, and finally drank it in like a straw and sucked on it. When the soft rubbery head bumped the back of my throat I changed my angle slightly and tried to swallow it down. It passed into my throat on the second try. Almost at once it swelled and he came, rich white gouts of semen filling my stomach and, as I pulled back, my mouth. The taste was creamy, salty sweet. A little like Gatorade. No wonder all those hunks like that stuff, I thought as I swallowed it down. I turned and still licking my lips, smiled at him. He was in a post-orgasmic euphoria, and smiled back. "Was I all right?" I asked in a little girl voice, as if seeking reassurance? I knew I'd been great. "You were great!" Sally replied. "Just wait a bit and there'll be more!" I looked at him and there were tears in his eyes. "Why, honey?" I asked him gently, wiping them away gently with my red manicured fingertips. "Because you remind me what it was once like, making love to a woman. I've missed it! You're so perfect! So smooth and soft! And so caring!" I got the warmest, most loving feeling imaginable in my belly, spreading out from where I knew his sweet semen was soaking into me where I'd swallowed it down. Without a word I got up and went into the kitchen and opened a chilled bottle of wine and a can of truffled pate, and spread them on crackers and carried them on a plate with two wine glasses back into my bedroom. "Dinner," I announced. And when he'd sat up and taken his glass in hand I raised mine and said, "To caring for each other!" And we kissed, so sweetly! Then we sipped, never ceasing to stare into each other's eyes. Then when our glasses were empty he set the plate of pate aside and said "C'mere, sweetheart!" I melted into him. He rolled on top of me and gently placed my thighs on his shoulders and poked at my hole. His warm rod slid into me. "Oh!" I squeaked. Because as soon as I felt that long thick mass filling me up, the old, familiar sweet yearning suffused me, and then the building and crashing of waves of feeling came upon me and poured all through me again, and I could feel my ass pulsing on his hard cock, clenching and hugging it repeatedly from all sides at once, my beautifully rounded buttocks writhing into him. I kissed his face passionately. I had come again, and he'd barely begun to fuck me! Twenty minutes later I came yet again as he spent his cum into my guts. It was the most marvelous lovemaking of my life. I had my legs wrapped around his waist the whole time this time, and wouldn't let him pull out of me. We hugged each other and fell asleep. Then at first light I woke to feel him stroking inside me yet again, and again we made passionate, beautiful love. Finally he whispered "I'll call!" and slipped out of bed, dressed and left. I wanted to tell him "I'll wait for your call," but I still felt too dreamy to move. He was the man I'd been waiting for. And a man! I smiled to feel his cum oozing out of me into the sheets. I squeezed it lovingly with my sphincter, and fell asleep again. Only when I woke at mid-morning to begin my day's work did I realize that I didn't know his last name or his phone number. I wasn't the first girl adrift in a morning-after haze of delight to find myself lacking that crucial information! That evening when Tracy came home from the clinic I was waiting for her kneeling, nude, as always on weekdays. As she stepped out of the elevator she paused and looked at me. "Amy, throw on a housecoat or something, and come in, and let's talk." Then after a moment she added. "You don't need to greet me that way any more. That's for keeping men in their place. From what Mistress Sally told me her Sally told her, there's no man left in you to put down. You're more and more getting the figure of a woman. And last night, apparently, you became a woman in your own mind. I don't just mean that you got laid! I mean really a woman, with all the power and capacity for affection that word implies. You dominated him, and you felt tenderly helpless with him! You'll still do what I ask the rest of this week, as we've agreed. But now I'll honor you as one of my kind, not one of their kind. Come in and tell me all about it." And I did. I still felt so wonderful! I spoke of how considerate he'd been, and how heavenly I had felt all day because his cum was still inside me in two different places. I asked Tracy "Will I ever see him again?" "You're in love, aren't you," she replied. I didn't answer. I thought so, but if so, that was for Sally to hear first of all. end 7/10 (c) 1999 by Vickie Tern (VickieTern@AOL.COM, all comments welcomed)  VickieTern@AOL.COM -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. 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