Message-ID: <21183asstr$942538201@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) X-Newsreader: Session Scheduler Subject: {ASSM} A Place of her Own by Vickie Tern 10/10 TG F/m Femdom X-Original-Message-ID: <19991111093928.25568.00000047@ngol02.aol.com> X-To: story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us JMDigest-Score: good -16 Date: Sat, 13 Nov 1999 19:10:01 -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 10/10, 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. x. Three months later I was fully healed, and Sal and I lived together in my condo apartment and regularly made love as man and woman. Tracy's apartment was sold to another couple, the wife a treasure of gourmet recipes, sprightly advice, and delicious gossip about everyone else in the building. We became dear friends. Gradually Sal acted less and less swish -- it was no longer necessary -- while I learned to act more and more feminine. Our passion sustained itself. Now and then one of us brought home a monster cock attached to a hunk of a man, and then we'd both stuff ourselves with him as if he were a Thanksgiving turkey! Or we were. Our love ripened. When Sal's divorce became final we married each other in a small ceremony. I did wear Trish's gown after all, because I'd wanted to ever since I first saw her in it, the day we were married. That had been a hopeless fantasy, but now it finally came true. Everyone told me I looked lovely! I was so happy! I knew I should have felt grateful to Trish for all she'd done for me, but we deliberately scheduled the wedding for a time when we knew Trish had to be out of town. She'd done more than enough! I went back to work for Trish's law firm. Sal negotiated a non-exclusive services contract restricted to Trish's Magnum operation, and I kept my own clients in a new consulting firm Sal and I quietly set up. Trish introduced me to a few other people in the firm as my sister, and no one questioned it, not even those who had known Andy. Georgy put the make on me and had to be scraped off several times before a senior partner warned him about sexual harassment and he gave up. Rumors spread around the company and in my former neighborhood that Andy was dead, killed tragically in an industrial accident in Saudi Arabia. Trish and I both wore black ostentatiously for a few weeks, but our dresses were so fashionable and mine so provocative that no one who didn't know could imagine that we were in mourning. My new work for Trish was what she called troubleshooting, but it was really fucking and sucking trade secrets out of engineers who worked for the Magnum Company's competition, and sometimes persuading Magnum production engineers to cooperate with other engineers who had better ideas. I offered them certain compensating satisfactions. Whatever she asked, I did. It gave her special gratification, she once told me, knowing that her former husband was now her personal whore on assignment, ready to sleep with anyone on call from her. It gave her a special feeling of power, she said. She loved it. She'd have made me her personal maid and sex slave and not ended our marriage, she told me one day meditatively, and maybe not even tricked me all the way into femininity, if I'd been a more submissive husband to her, more into bondage, more eager to feel humiliated. She was a control freak, and made no apologies about it, now. But she'd detected no masochistic or self-abasing tendencies in me, and what shame I felt that I wanted to look feminine evaporated when my first cross dressing convention taught me pride. Now, she said, ordering me onto various men's pricks by whatever orifice they chose was enough to satisfy her. She enjoyed calling me in to brief me for my next assignment, informing me for example whether the man I was expected to seduce -- sometimes the woman -- preferred me regal or slutty, aloof or eager, and telling me what she wanted done with them. Frankly, I enjoyed the work. I liked manipulating various men to my own purposes. I'd describe what I did with these people to Sal when I got home, so he could enjoy it too. And as we planned, little by little our consulting firm signed up the cleverest and most imaginative of the engineers I slept with, one by one enlarging our client pool and our ability to service it. Unnoticed, we became one of the best-regarded new companies in the industry. Until one day on a late Friday afternoon Trish called me with an odd assignment. "Amy," she said. "It seems that there's a new firm of consulting engineers in town seriously threatening the Magnum corporation's growth curve. It's headed by a husband and wife team I'm told. See if you can get into the man's pants and get their client list from them. Then we can mount an offensive to recover the clients we've lost and pick up some others. It won't be hard, once they know that their new consulting firm doesn't keep client lists confidential." "I know something about them," I said. "We need to talk. I can stop by your house tomorrow. Around eleven in the morning? Or will you still be here in Madison?" I knew that she spent weekends in the house we'd formerly shared. This would be my first visit to my former neighborhood since that Saturday months earlier when Trish had felt up my breasts and first proposed this job to me, and then expedited my journey into full womanhood. I stopped at CurlyGirly en route to consult with Janie. "I need to be read as a man in a dress," I told her. "I want to blow my cover to anyone. At a glance. Can you help me?" "These days it isn't easy with you, honey," she replied. "With all those hormones doing their things, you have all the right curves for a woman, and none of the crags. But that tight blouse with big boobs helps. We'll make them even bigger. The satin mini and net stockings are perfect. Put a tear or two into the stockings though. And you'll need stiletto heels, 'fuck me' pumps of the kind no woman wears any more. Dressed like that on an ordinary street, no one will think you're real! Never mind your hairdo -- we'll cover it with a Drag Queen wig bigger than a beach ball. No earrings or eye makeup, but use too much lipstick. That ought to do it. Can you recall how you used to walk? Slouching, lots of shoulder?" "No," I said. "But I'll fake up something." It amused Janie to put make-up on me emphasizing a broad face and square jaw. The result was as persuasively masculine as my first face had been feminine after my first CurlyGirly visit. I hugged her in gratitude. "Just lovely!" I said. "No, not at all lovely," she replied, amused. "Remember to lower your voice." Arriving in my old neighborhood, I went straight to the local supermarket. "How are you, Mrs. Svenson," I said to the first person I recognized. "You remember me? Andy? Tricia's husband? I went to Saudi Arabia? I'm back now." She looked at me peculiarly. "You've changed," she said. "Yes, I'm a girl now. I was away from my wife for so long that I decided one day while masturbating that I should become my wife. So that's what I did! Now I don't miss her any more when I'm away." "Humph!" she said. "Does your wife know about this? Have you told her? Tricia?" "Oh, yes! She encourages me! She loved it when I grew these!" "She does? She did? Humph!" Mrs. Svenson replied, hurrying to get away. A few more chance meetings in the mall, and a few neighbors where I rang doorbells asking to borrow back tools they'd borrowed from me, and Andy's reputation and Trish's respectability in the neighborhood were permanently ruined. It would get back to Trish's superiors by Monday I was sure, and the Magnum company's board would know almost immediately afterward that their General Counsel plays perverted sex games in public with her husband. As Trish had forecast long before, she would be on another assignment by Tuesday. Something much more modest than overseeing Magnum affairs. When I arrived at my former home, Trish looked at me closely. "You look like a man in drag," she said abruptly. "I still am, in some ways," I replied. "Well, that's no longer my concern. Just be sure you dress properly on the job, and don't loiter in the neighborhood when you leave here." She then repeated her instructions to me: seduce the husband and get their client list, and she gave me their office address. One of her people had suborned one of our secretaries to get additional information about Sal and me. I made a mental note to fire her. "I know this company, Trish. In fact I'm already into the husband's pants," I said. "He's very affectionate, but he's very honest with his wife. He keeps nothing secret from her." Trish looked surprised. "He does? Then he's a fool. Does he tell her about you? What you two do together?" "He doesn't have to. She already knows about me!" A slow grin spread across Trish's face. "You minx!" she said. "You're balling both of them together, aren't you?" "If I fuck him, his wife gets fucked too, Trish. That's the deal. That's how it is!" "People never cease to amaze me," Trish said. "They swing? Can we blackmail them into giving up their client list?" "It wouldn't work," I said. "I've thought about it. There's nothing they do they're ashamed of." "How about sleeping with a transvestite? You could dress carelessly, the way you are now, and spread the word. Take a few pictures for evidence. Threaten to post them on the company bulletin board." "That might work. I'm trying a threat very much like that on someone else right now. Spreading the word through the neighborhood. We'll see if it destroys any reputations." Then I asked as if it were an afterthought, "Do you expect to be fucked this weekend, Trish?" "That's none of your business any more, Amy." "No. But I bet you will be. I'll call you Tuesday." I drove directly home and changed into a more appropriate dress and made my face decent, then told Sal what I'd been asked to do, and what I'd done. "You're wicked!" he said. "What if I did that to you! Dressed up in women's clothes and pranced about the neighborhood ruining our reputation as a respectable married couple! Even if only your reputation in this building!" "What if you did, Sally?" I said in a playful, lilting tone of voice. I felt an unaccustomed thrill stir deep inside me. He had a small, thin face. With the right makeup my Sal would look gorgeous! Would my wedding gown fit him? "What if you did, honey?" I asked, watching his face closely. "Would you find it exciting?" FIN (end, 10/10) (c) 1999 by Vickie Tern (VickieTern@AOL.COM, all comments welcomed). May be copied to free archives, but do let me know! 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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