Chapter 2
I had some time to think about this as she dragged me out the
front door and threw me into the backseat of her car, shut the door and
left me there as she went back into the house. I sat there in the car
thinking about what would happen to me, if Mistress had really meant
what she had said about turning me into a shemale slave. I quickly
decided that she had indeed meant it and that if I didn't soon find a
way to escape I would very likely end up looking and behaving just like
Diane. The thought that really scared me though, was not the prospect of
being turned into a sissy-slave, but the thought that I might actually
like it! As I thought about my fate I found my cock trying to get hard.
I tried willing it to go limp, tried telling myself that I hated
everything Mistress had done to me, but it was no good. I found myself
thinking about the fantastic orgasm she had given me and how much I had
liked being fucked up the ass - hard. In the end I had to admit that
submitting to Mistress turned me on a great deal. At the same time I
didn't want to spend the rest of my life as a slave and I tried getting
out of the car, out of my bonds. All to no avail. Although the door was
unlocked I was unable to even open it and I was completely unable to do
anything about my bonds. When Mistress returned to the car more than
half an hour later, I was crying with frustration. She laughed at this
as she set the car in motion and drove into town. As we moved I realized
that here I was in the backseat, completely naked and bound for all to
see. Surely someone would notice and call the police. For the first time
I began to hope for release.
My hope was dashed all too soon as we drove into town. To my dismay and
surprise all the people we passed, whether they were in other cars or in
the street, clearly saw me before greeting Mistress like nothing had
happened, like it was perfectly normal for Mistress to have a naked and
bound slave sitting in the backseat. After a few minutes I even stopped
trying to call out behind my gag. Just how normal everyone in town
considered Mistress' behavior became clear to me when she stopped the
car in front a shop on Main Street. Mistress opened the door and helped
me stand before leading my by the cock towards the shop. On the sidewalk
she met a couple of old ladies and engaged in a short conversation.
Neither lady seemed to really notice me before one of them spoke: "I see
that you have caught a new one Inga? Are you going to turn this one into
a shemale slave as well or will you be going with a more traditional
faggot theme?" I was shocked that such dear old lady would speak like
that, but Mistress seemed to think it perfectly normal and replied:
"Well actually it was the sheriff who caught this one. He was kind
enough to lead her to my door. You know he has one in training himself
at the moment, so he was kind enough to bring this bitch to me. And yes,
I am going to go with the sissy theme with this one." The old ladies
nodded as Mistress continued: "In fact I am taking her to the doctor,
but I wanted to stop by Heinrich first." She nodded towards the shop,
"Heinrich Meister - shoes for every occasion". "Heinrich has the best
eye in town for how much tit the little shits can handle and still be
sellable." I reeled at this and tried to pull away while I called out
behind my gag. The leash didn't allow me to get very far away and before
Mistress could react one of the little old ladies held my balls in a
vice grip. "I will tolerate no shenanigans from you girl," she informed
me with an icy stare and squeezed my balls viciously. I tried screaming,
but I had no air left in my lungs as the pain enveloped me and I felt my
legs giving in. Mistress, however, would have none of it. She grasped me
by the neck and sneered into my face: "Don't you dare fall slave. I'll
whip your skin off if you do." The promise of more pain helped me focus
and I managed to stay on my feet and remain absolutely quiet for the
rest of their conversation. While they spoke several people passed us.
None cast more than a cursory glance at me and all greeted Mistress like
a dear old friend. It seemed perfectly normal to have slaves in this
town.
Meanwhile I was growing cold as I stood there, naked in the street in
early autumn and I was actually relieved when Mistress said goodbye to
the ladies and led me into the shoe shop. Inside the shoe shop the first
thing I noticed was that there did indeed seem to be shoes for every
occasion - that is if you meant stiletto shoes for every occasion. Every
nook and cranny of the store was filled with high-heeled shoe of every
possible description. A young man, about the same age as myself, was
helping a very elegant lady pick a pair of shoes. The lady was not
unlike Mistress, in her fifties with a slender and attractive body, her
gently graying hair pulled back in a tight bun. She wore pointy, fifties
style glasses enhancing the severity of her looks. She wore a very
elegant, pink set of matching jacket and skirt and although she was now
trying on a variety of high-heeled shoes I noticed that the shoes she
had arrived in was a pair of black pumps with seven-inch stilettos.
Kneeling in front of her, putting shoes on and taking them off, was not
the young man, but a female slave. She was dressed from head to toe in
skin-tight blue rubber, covering all of her body and most of her head as
well. Only her hands and face were uncovered and in her mouth resided a
monster ball-gag, in a matching blue color of course. Her wrists were
connected by a short chain, no more than six inches long, as were her
ankles. On her feet were black ballet-toed boots with stilettos more
than eight inches high. Her waist was impossibly constricted by a blue
corset and from her ass and pussy two black, monster dildos protruded.
The girl looked terrified of her owner, who in turn barely acknowledged
her presence.
When the shop assistant and the elegant lady saw Mistress, both greeted
her as an old friend. The lady quickly put on her old shoes and stood
up, kicking the poor slave over on her side in dismay over her slow
reactions. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Mistress turned to
the young man: "Jason, is your Dad in? I want to ask for a bit of advice
regarding my newest acquisition." She nodded in my direction and Jason
seemed to notice me for the first time. He now turned his full attention
towards me and after asking for Mistress' permission he let his hands
roam my body. At the same time he looked me straight in the eye. It was
intensely embarrassing to be looked at in this way by a boy no older
than myself and I quickly dropped my gaze. He reacted promptly to this,
slapping my face hard and yelling: "Don't you dare look away until I
tell you to, you worthless, little faggot!" Terrified I looked up again
and he resumed his exploration of my body. I had just begun to realize
that I might be submissive by nature, but I wasn't ready for my own
reactions to his touch. After less than a minute I found myself getting
aroused by the treatment, my poor imprisoned cock trying desperately to
get hard, not for the last time causing me great pain as it did. When he
gently slid his hands over my ass and chest I actually whimpered with
need, much to my embarrassment. He finally allowed me to look down in
shame as he and Mistress shared a laugh at my expense.
What was happening to me? I had never had any homosexual fantasies and
yet here I was practically on the verge of begging this young man to
fuck me, to take me and control me. As his hands had roamed my body, I
had experienced a powerful urge to just submit. I kept telling myself
that this was not what I wanted, that I didn't want to spend the rest of
my life as a slave and yet I hardly resisted when Mistress or any other
tried to control me, and indeed I found myself getting aroused by the
control. It was extremely confusing.
My chain of thought was interrupted by Mistress speaking to the young
man: "My, my Jason. You have really uncovered this girl's submissive
streak. I had noticed that she was unusually docile, but this display of
slave lust and affection is quite extraordinary. Now if you will excuse
me, I have to speak to your father." Jason smiled wickedly in my
direction and replied: "Of course, Miss Maitresse. He's out back
teaching the new little faggot how to perform a proper blowjob. The
little shit came back from the dentist yesterday and he hasn't quite
adjusted to giving blowjobs smooth-gummed." Mistress, the lady and Jason
laughed at this, whereas I stiffened with horror. Had he actually just
said that they had removed the teeth of the poor slave? I could hardly
believe such cruelty, but I had little time to reflect as I was dragged
into the backroom of the store.
Here Mistress found Mr. Meister, who was indeed having his slave boy
perform a blowjob. Mr. Meister was a very large man, broad in the
shoulders and chest and with a flat, broad face. He had his pants down
around his ankles and his legs and crotch were very hairy. Kneeling in
front of him was a slave boy about my age. The only things he wore were
a pair of high-heeled shoes, a tight steel collar and a chastity device.
His chastity device was a black, rubber pouch imprisoning both his cock
and his balls and pulled so tightly that they were no more than very
small, black sphere in his crotch. He had longish, blonde hair and his
ass was almost glowing red from the spanking he had obviously received.
As he deep-throated Mr. Meister, tears rolled down his cheeks. His body
was completely hairless and had been rubbed with some kind of oil,
giving it a smooth and attractive appearance. Presently Mr. Meister
grabbed the boy's head with both hands and began to make urgent jerking
movements with his hips as his orgasm approached. As he came, he pushed
his cock in until the boy's lips touched his pubic hair and Mr.
Meister's cock was deep down his throat. Mr. Meister held the boys head
there as he shot his load down the slave's throat and after a while the
boy began jerking and twisting as the cock gradually choked him. He was,
however, trained well enough not to try to push himself free, but rather
waited for his master to release him. When Mr. Meister finally did
release the slave boy, his struggles had stopped and he hung limply, his
mouth still attached to his master's crotch. As Mr. Meister pushed him
off he flopped limply onto the floor and it was several seconds before
he began coughing and retching as his breathing gradually returned.
Meanwhile Mistress had greeted Mr. Meister and both were talking
seemingly without noticing the slave boy, who might as well have choked
to death. Once again I was both badly scared and quite turned on by this
display of brutal domination and I told myself not to cringe as Mr.
Meister turned his attention to me at Mistress' asking. Like his son, he
let his hands roam freely over my body at first, but then their
attention turned to my chest, which he fondled and prodded for quite a
while. While he did this, the slave boy had regained enough
consciousness and composure to get up and crawl over by his master's
side, where he knelt, his head slightly down, arms behind his back and
his chest out.
Mr. Meister's examination of me was most humiliating and surprisingly
painful, but after several minutes he let me go and turned to Mistress:
"Submissive this one, ehh?" he remarked before continuing. "His build is
quite slender, but also quite strong so I think that he can take a pair
of quite large tits; say 42EE or maybe even 44EE." While Mistress nodded
as if she had thought the same thing, I started at this. Huge tits? On
my chest? The thought alone was enough to make me want to scream. "Thank
you Heinrich," Mistress said. "Your advice is, as always, valued
highly." Mr. Meister nodded at this before Mistress continued: "I was
thinking along the same lines. Diane is, as you well know, more ...
conventional when it comes to her tits and will probably be sold at a
reasonable, but not outrageous price. This one on the other hand has the
potential to become a big-titted, super-submissive freak given the right
training, and we both know that slaves like that fetch much higher
prices. Yes, I think that I'll go with your advice. 44EE seems
reasonable." I wanted to scream. Giving me huge tits, training and
selling me as a slave was a nightmare, but neither was interested in my
opinion. Instead Mistress interest turned to the kneeling slave. Nodding
in his direction she asked Mr. Meister: "I presume that his training is
nearly complete?" Meister nodded and replied: "Yes indeed. He needs to
relearn a few blowjob tricks now that his teeth have been removed, but
otherwise he's ready. I even have a buyer for him." Mistress looked up
and asked: "Anyone I know of?" Mr. Meister chuckled as he replied: "Oh
yes. Mr. Houseman is most interested in him." Now Mistress laughed as
well. "Oh, I do hope that he has been trained as a shit-eater? Houseman
does have his peculiarities." They both laughed at this as both the
slave boy and I shuddered with revulsion. Meister presently replied:
"Indeed I have trained him as such. Or rather Jason has seen to that
part of training. Jason hasn't used a regular toilet in over three weeks
now, so I think that this one is about ready." The two talked a little
about what a fine young man Jason was turning into and how he would soon
leave home and set up shop for himself. Meanwhile the slave boy and I
waited docilely and obediently for them to finish. I because I had no
choice and the slave boy because he had been too well trained to rebel.
I shuddered at the thought that soon I might react in the same way, but
at the same time I had to admit to a certain submissive thrill at the
thought. What was this woman turning me into?
I would have the answer soon enough as she bid her farewells to Mr.
Meister and led me out through the shop. In the shop itself the woman
had picked a pair of shoes and was now trying them out in earnest. This
meant pushing the heel of one shoe, all seven inches of it, as far up
her slave's ass as it would go, while the slave, standing on all fours,
was giving head to Jason. The look on the slave girl's face told
everyone that it was far from pleasant, but the look of sheer dominant
intensity on the face of her owner told me that she would be subjected
to plenty more of this. As we exited the shop Jason started moaning
gently and grabbed the slaves head in anticipation of his approaching
orgasm in a gesture not unlike his father.
To my surprise Mistress didn't put me back into the car, but rather led
me along the street for a leisurely stroll to the doctor's office. Every
few yards we were stopped by someone Mistress knew and the trip to the
doctor's office ended up taking more than an hour. When finally arrived
all I wanted to do was to sit down and rest my feet and my legs. The
shoes were killing my feet and walking in them was both painful and
unnatural. I was also quite cold, not being used to being naked all the
time although I was beginning to suspect that that would come sooner
than I wanted it to.
The doctor's office looked like any other office belonging to a small
town family doctor; cozy but clean. An elderly lady, probably the
doctor's wife, greeted Mistress as we entered and told us to wait in the
waiting room. Again I was surprised. In the waiting room were other
people waiting to see the doctor: a man with a bandaged hand, an elderly
lady on crutches and a young mother with her teenage daughter. None of
them seemed to think it out of the ordinary that a woman came to see the
doctor dragging a bound, chastised and somewhat feminized young man
behind her. Mistress certainly didn't think it was unusual a sat down in
an empty chair. A stern look told me not to try and sit down, so I
remained standing. The pain in my feet caused me to shift them a great
deal, but again Mistress corrected my mistake and soon I stood very
still, back straight, feet together and with my head demurely down. I
could feel resistance draining from me. It seemed to be utterly futile.
I was bound and completely controlled and furthermore it seemed that the
whole town was in on this; that there was no help to be gotten. Even the
sheriff was clearly part of this town-wide slaving operation. I was
beginning to despair.
After almost an hour the doctor finally had time to see us, and Mistress
led me into his office. The doctor was a chubby little man who seemed
pleasant enough right up until the moment they began discussing my fate.
As Mistress told him what she wanted to do me I started objecting behind
my gag. Neither would have any such nonsense and in seconds I was lying
across the doctor's lap while he spanked me soundly, making sure that he
struck my balls from time to time. After a few minutes I was again
crying, doing my best to signal that I understood and would behave. When
they were satisfied that I was going to remain calm, the doctor
unceremoniously dumped me on the floor as he discussed my fate further.
I sat in horror listening to Mistress telling the doctor that she wanted
my voice fixed and my Adams-apple removed, that she wanted my hands and
feet made as small as possible and that she wanted me equipped with a
pair of 44EE tits. At this last request the doctor chuckled and
remarked: "I see that you and Heinrich Meister have once again been
having a little chat?" Both he and Mistress laughed a little before
shaking on it, after which she turned to leave. As she did she looked at
me and said: "When we meet again you will have changed a great deal.
When you wake up again you'll see that the only possible future for you
is that of a sissy-slave, so get used to the idea. You are much more
fortunate than most of the useless little slaves I train because you are
obviously submissive." Upon seeing the look on my face she scolded me as
she continued: "Come now, don't try to deny it. You may not want to
admit it to yourself, but is quite clear that you enjoy being dominated.
I mean; I know that I'm good, but very few people have reacted as
passionately as you did when I fucked your ass. Don't even try to deny
that you loved it." My face burned with shame as I looked down. I knew
that she was absolutely right, and she clearly knew this so she
continued: "It's very rare that I give actual advice to slaves. Most
often it's just orders as it should be, but in your case I'll make an
exception. My advice is this: Relish in your natural submissiveness. You
are going to be a slave for the rest of your life. Nothing short of a
miracle can save you from that and I work hard to avoid such miracles,
so you might as well start trying to enjoy it, 'cause it's the only
pleasure you'll get for the rest of your life."
With that she left me, her cruel words ringing ever more true in my
ears. The last few hours had taught me things about myself I hadn't
known and hadn't wanted to know, and now I had to admit that these
things were true; that Mistress had been right about me. If what she
said about my permanent state of slavery were also true, this meant that
I should undoubtedly take her advice and start trying to enjoy my status
as a slave. The very idea filled me with despair as I saw all my plans
for the future disappear into absolute submission and I was sobbing as
the doctor dragged me to my feet and called his wife, the elderly lady
from the desk outside the waiting room. She obviously didn't care much
whether I cried or not and simply led me into another room where she
directed me to sit on an examination table. I had no resistance left in
me and docilely sat down. She then produced at syringe and injected
something into my thigh. Almost instantly I began to feel woozy and
after a few seconds I fell unconscious.
