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Subject: {ASSM} A Place of her Own by Vickie Tern 7/10 TG F/m Femdom
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Date: Sat, 13 Nov 1999 18:40:26 -0500
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{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
--
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