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Part I
The Birthday
It was my 18th birthday. This was going to be my best birthday ever. My parents had planned some party with my friends, but I had something much better in store for them. Living on the streets of New York City for 18 years now had taught me where one could get a good time, and it was not in some parent-planned occasion. It was on the streets. I had a plan to get the supplies for the real party and had some fun at the same time.
The plan started with a hooker. I left the apartment and went down into the city. There, I looked for one. After a few minutes, I found what I was looking for. She was very hot. The whore was wearing a red miniskirt and matching tube top, and black stockings with tops that were just barely visible. I got hard just looking at her.
“Hello there.” I said.
“Looking for a good time?” She responded.
“Of course. What's the price for that fine pussy?”
“100 dollars up front.”
I gave her the cash, and we went off into a secluded spot to bang. I took her to a little spot that I knew. She started stripping down, and I was certain that I had made a good choice in choosing a hooker. She pulled off the miniskirt and top, leaving behind black lingerie. She undid the bra, and held it for just a second before pulling it down, revealing her firm, large, perfect tits. The panties came down, revealing her beautiful bald cunt. I slipped right in. The hole was surprisingly tight for a hooker. She was obviously experienced, and she was the best fuck I had had. We pounded there for a few minutes, silence only broken by moans and ambiance of the streets that were near. I almost regretted what I was going to do, but I knew this was what I had to do to get my supplies. I felt my balls tighten up; I knew what was coming. I squirted off a huge load in her dripping wet pussy and began redressing.
We were about to part ways when I began the next phase of the plan: I beat her up. The usual rules of hitting a woman did not apply; she was a whore who sold herself, I had no feelings for her. As the whore lay on the ground, I took all her cash and ran. I examined my loot, and found I had gotten several hundred dollars. I smiled to myself. This was pretty fun. I went along, beating up a couple more whores, until I had obtained a total of $3300. This was great. I got thousands of dollars, got my rocks off, and had lots of fun, all in one night.
Now that I had a lot of cash, I could go about getting the needed supplies for the real party to come. There were always hookers available in NYC, but there was also plenty of blow. That was going to make the party really come alive tonight. I hung around, looking for a dealer.
“Hey man, got any coke?” I asked a guy.
“Sure do kid. It'll cost you $50 a gram.” He responded.
I handed over the cash and got 66 grams of the good stuff, enough to make 660 lines. It was plenty enough for the party. Now that I had everything that I needed, it was time for the party to begin. It could not take place in my apartment where the day party was, obviously, but we had gotten someone's place who's parent were gone for a while. I got in and they were all there, waiting for me.
“Did anyone call for some party-make-awesome?” I called out to them.
There was come clapping and cheering as I brought in the coke. We snorted and snorted for hours, and before we knew it it was all gone and we were higher than planes. The party lasted throughout the night. Something in the morning, we were all back to earth and people were starting to leave. But then something happened that changed everything. There was a knock on the door. I opened it, and there was a pimp pointing a gun at me.
“Can you guess why I'm here?” He angrily asked me.
“No, no idea.” I responded.
“Really? I think that you do. You beat up several of my hos and stole $3300 from them. And when you steal from my hos, you steal from me.”
“I don't know what you're talking about. You must have the wrong guy.”
This was getting serious. The little events that had made the party possible were now coming back to haunt me.
“Listen, man, I'm not fucking around here. Look at what I'm holding. Here's the deal. You give me the cash plus another 5 grand for pay for the hos medical bills and for me coming out here.”
“Well, I would give you the cash, but it all went up our noses. I'm broke.”
“That's unfortunate. It looks like you and me are going to take a little trip now.”
I walked out of the apartment onto the street, the pimp holding the gun up to me the entire time.
“I'm going to put this away now so it's not seen, but if you run, you will die.”
We walked down the dark streets for a while, and all of a sudden the pimp stopped in front of a building. I saw I sign on it that said “Domina Enterprises”. The pimp knocked on the door using some special knock sequence. After a few seconds, the door opened and I woman appeared at the door. She was wearing black skintight clothes, and looked like the kind of woman you would not want to mess with. Unlike the hooker, who was now just a distant memory, this woman would not want to be solicited on the street. She had the face of someone who had just woken from a good sleep and was slightly pissed.
“Nice to see you here.” She said. “At least it would be, if you hadn't woken me up. Do you have someone for me?”
“Sorry ma'am, but I have no where to take this guy” The pimp replied. “This fucker beat up and robbed a few of my hos, then spent the money on blow. He claims to be broke, so I think selling his body is the only way to get my money back.”
The woman looked much happier after the pimp finished talking.
“Of course. I haven't had a slave for a while now. I can see to it that he will get what he deserves. Here is the cash for him.”
I gasped as the woman gave $10000 to the pimp. Why would she be paying so much money for me? Satisfied, he pushed me through the door. And what did she say about a slave?
“Have fun.” He said as he left, with more than a trace of mockery in his voice.
The woman closed the door.
“Hello there. I now own you, so you are my slave.” The woman said to me, pulling out a gun. “Now law down on that table.”
I had no choice but to lay down. It was a cold, steel, table, and it appeared that it was attached somehow to the floor. There were four hooks on it near the corners for some unknown purpose.
“Now take off all of your clothes.”
I did so, and it made me feel even colder. I could feel the coldness of the steel on my back. I was completely exposed to this woman, and completely vulnerable. She began tying me down onto the table. She expertly bound each of my wrists and ankles, and tied the rope onto the hooks. She adjusted it so that it was excruciatingly tight. I could barely move at all.
“Do you see this place? This is my domain. I now own your body, and can use you however I wish. What do you think?”
I contemplated what she said to me. I had been kidnapped to pay off the debt to the pimp, and was now stuck here.
“What are you going to do to me?” I eventually asked.
“That's a good question. I will explain everything, but not yet. First we must make our way towards the dungeon.”
She went over and pressed a button. I felt the table start moving along the ground. It went into what looked like an elevator. That was confirmed when I heard closing doors and felt myself dropping down. The doors opened out again, and the table went out a bit, and stopped. I could not see much of what was there, except some whips, paddles, and a giant metal x on the wall. I shuddered at what would happen to me down here.
“This is the dungeon.” The woman said. “Now, I fell like you need to be told what is going to happen. Not that you will be able to do anything about it, however. You took advantage of prostitutes and robbed them. Therefore, your punishment should be fitting in what you did. You have noticed that I paid a substantial sum for your worthless body; this is because I am going to invest in it. You will be trained to be a hooker on the streets.”
I stared in open-mouthed disbelief. Me, being a hooker on the streets? How could that even happen? I shuddered at having to be gay.
“So, you're going to force me to be a male prostitute?” I unhappily responded. “How long will this last?”
“Oh, I never said anything about being male. You will be retrained as a woman, whose only role is to be a slut. You may enjoy it, but I don't care one bit. After all, I made an investment in you and I expect to get it back.”
I was worried before, but that just shocked me. Becoming a woman? Even if I cooperated, how could that possibly happen? There was no way that I was going to look like a woman in any way.
“Listen lady, there is no way that this is going to happen. It just can't happen.”
“What?! Now you need to listen, slave, because I am in charge here, not you. Unless you want me to rip off your pitiful little dick and feed it to you, and will listen to me. Now, slave, you must call me Mistress at all times and only refer to yourself in the third person. Pronouns such as 'I' imply that you control that body, but it really belongs to me. Is that clear?”
Was she kidding about ripping off my dick? After all, she had complete control of me here. If I was going to survive, I would have to follow her. Maybe when she sent me on the streets, I could escape.
“Yes, Mistress. How should the slave refer to himself?”
“You are just a slave for now, so call yourself 'the slave', like you did. But you must also use 'herself' instead of 'himself', since you are a woman now. Now, tomorrow's a big day with a lot in store, so try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, your training will begin.”
With that, Mistress walked up some stairs and out of sight. The slave knew that she would have to begin using third person feminine pronouns while thinking so that she could get used to them. This is incredibly humiliating, she thought, but she will be able to escape when she is put on the streets. For now, she just needs to adjust to this horrible new situation that she is in. She supposed that tomorrow, she would be made to do humiliating things to become a woman, like she was told she would become.
She was right.
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