Some men simply don’t deserve the title of man. You know what I mean; they can’t or won’t make decisions. They prefer to be led around by the nose with little interest in who does the leading. They are not even really submissive, because a true submissive relinquishes control and these pathetic creatures have no control. They are called men only because they have external sex organs, which allow them to piss while standing. Such is the case of William, who I call Wilma. We will soon see about this standing business!
Wilma was divorced about ten years ago by his wife when I first knew of him. Lucky woman got out while she could! He had not paid child support for three years. He never talks to his only son who is now about sixteen. Wilma resides with me. The conditions are whatever I say subject to change without notice. He sleeps standing in a hall closet converted for him. He has been my slave for just over two years since he lost his job in Silicon Valley when the bubble burst. I got him a job near Compton, which he hates. I like the fact that he hates his job, rides the bus to and from work, and gives me every last cent he makes.
He was late for the bus one day. His supervisor called and told me he would be docked an hour’s pay. When he arrived home he was stripped and whipped and given only his own piss to drink. At midnight he was sent to the bus stop with a blanket where he caught the bus on time at 6:15 A.M. That weekend, I rented him to a friend. He cleaned her house from top to bottom, washed her car, and cut her lawns. He started at 6 in the morning and ended at dark.
We required him to walk the three miles to her home dressed in a short pink dress, bra with oversized boobs (they looked so funny), black firm support pantyhose, and high heels. The gardening and car wash were done naked expect for a jock strap and panties. Wilma got such a terrible burn! My friend beat him without mercy and required three sessions of oral pleasure all this for one hour’s pay at $11.96. He has not missed the bus since.
Wilma is not allowed to wear male clothing within my home. He must put on pants, shoes, and a shirt over his pantyhose and bra on my enclosed back porch. He may not stand to urinate. I have assisted this gender function change with a device. He wears a special male chastity device that cuts into the skin both in front of and behind the balls. He had a little bleeding at first, which is normal, but after a few days the skin toughened up.
The device will not allow a full erection, but the attempt is, from what I can tell, most uncomfortable. When viewing porn or watching sex acts live the male organ receives pain that is nothing short of agony. I just love the thing; I think every man should wear one! He eats at the most one meal a day, which I provide and sometimes taint with my urine. He provides me with whatever sexual attention I find enjoyable at the time and I beat him to release my frustration. He cleans my home and takes care of the lawn, gardens, and car. I also, rent him to friends with and without the key to the device.
It was difficult to get Wilma to wear proper attire. I told him the dress code he would follow and he whined and even balled like a baby begging to be allowed the dignity of dressing like others of his gender. To put an end to this nonsense quickly, I strung him up and whipped his naked body on all sides. I am sure he was thankful for the placement of the device, which surely stop permanent damage. I left him like that in my dungeon (a converted finished attic) with only the balls of his feet for support. In the morning, I woke him with still another beating. Then I asked him what he wanted to wear. The fool said men’s clothes.
I put handcuffs on him and blindfolding him took him to my car. We drove through the morning light for an hour before parking near a wooded area of the Santa Monica Mountains. I pulled him out naked and removing the cuffs, told him he was free. He, being the whimp he is, began to beg not to be left naked. I told him to hide in the brush for a few hours until I returned. He better be willing to dress according to code or he would wear nothing!
I went and had breakfast. I half expected him to be gone when I returned, but of course, he was where I left him. At the honk of a horn he came out from behind a tree and began to beg to dress as a woman. He actually agreed to dress as a woman all the time. When he went to work I reminded him of this and told him that he was privileged to wear some concealing male garments over his proper clothing only as long as I wished it.
I took him, still naked, to my shop strung him up in the large walk in shower and shaved off every hair on his body below the neck. I watched as he dressed in pantyhose, a padded bra, short skirt, blouse, and short heels. I put a cheap wig on him and did his makeup. After looking at himself in the mirror, I told him to be careful not to get attacked by skinheads as he walked home.
I thought for a moment he was going to collapse on the floor in a heap. He looked dazed as if someone had hit him in the back of the head. Then he smiled and after kneeling to kiss my shoe tops stood and walked out in a poor impression of a female slut.
“William! William!” I yelled his male name very loud out the door after him. He stopped and stiffened. Then he turned and slowly walked back. I handed him a small envelope containing money.
“Pick up a bottle of wine at the liquor store on your way home.” Then I turned and walked back into my shop.
I generally pretend not to care about Wilma’s feelings or thoughts. However, when I arrived home that night to a lovely dinner for one served by my slave still dressed to code I asked how things had gone dressed as a woman in public for the first time.
“Thank you for asking, Mistress. I was terrified. I felt every eye looking at me. I thought everyone was asking if I were a man or a woman. I stumbled at least four times on the way home and nearly fell to the ground when I stepped up on to the curb the first time as I crossed the street wearing heels. The worst of it was standing in line to buy the wine. I was sure my gender was on everyone in the store’s mind and probably the main topic after I left. The clerk asked the man in front of me for ID and I thought he is not much younger than I. I worried about what would happen if I were asked, since I had nothing to show my age. Then, something surprising happened. The clerk said’ may I help you, miss.’ Even if people did not believe I was a woman, they were treating me as one.”
For the next three days, Wilma dressed as a woman around the house and even managed to go to the store twice. Then I took her to the DMV for an ID card. He was so scared. When I told him he needed ID to go to work, I thought he would run off. He spent the whole night worrying about it. I told him he was going to work and handed him a bus pass and the instructions on how to get there and who to talk to. He did not see his pants, shoes, and shirt until the minute before he left. He now buys women’s clothes dressed as a woman and does all the shopping wearing proper attire. He gets told at least once a week that I can send him off to work as a woman any day I choose.
On the second anniversary of his becoming Wilma my slave, I started special training. I unlocked the device from around his cock and balls. This I do about once a month, if he is good, I mean if I enjoy his oral attention. This time I gave him a hot kiss and said, “I want your cock in me slave! But if you cum before I tell you, I’ll snip your balls off!”
Wilma is a very good lover and obedient slave. I climaxed three times riding on his hard cock up my pussy. Then I gave the command and he shot the hottest longest load of cum into me!
After we rested for a minute I commanded, “Come here, slave. I need your mouth to clean my pussy.”
You should have seen the look on his face! He could hardly move. The idea of eating a pussy full of semen was revolting. I think if I gave him the choice of eating his own cum or licking my asshole he would probably rather eaten shit. But, he had no choice. Slowly, he began to lick and slurp his own fluid from my hole. I came twice more. Then slapping him on the ass, I reapplied the device. Tears trickled down his face as he pulled his pantyhose back on and walked to his room. He is always cuffed to the walls and left standing in heels with the door locked.
The training continued the next evening when I arrived home at about three in the morning. I pulled Wilma from his room and put a blindfold over his eyes. I made him eat me out. There was a surprise for his sweet tongue this time. Cum! My date had short a load up my pussy just before dropping me off. I laughed as Wilma ate semen for the second night in a row. This semen was from some stranger! At first, he was repulsed by the taste of the stuff, but after a few minutes he gave up and ate with gusto.
You know what comes next! My date spent the night with me and we made love in front of Wilma for about an hour. After shooting his hot load into my wet pussy, I motioned for my slave to provide a cleaning. Wilma began to cry, but ate the fluids without a word. My date made crude remarks and I laughed as I had orgasm after orgasm. I had more in store for my slave. I commanded him to clean my date’s cock and then sent him to his room without even a glass of water. Just before leaving for work, my date required a blowjob, which brought sobs of tears from poor abused Wilma.
At work, he got another surprise. I had called his supervisor and told him everything. Just before the morning break, William was called into the office and told he had a new duty. Every morning and afternoon Wilma performs his cock sucking function on his boss. He could complain of course, but he is too much of a whimp. Besides, he knows such a complaint would send him back into the real world stripped naked. Wilma has gotten use to sucking the cocks of my lovers and his boss. He can do it without crying his eyes out.
Tonight I burned his pants, shirts, and threw out his shoes. On this Monday morning, Wilma will find a lovely dress and high heels in their place.
Please write me at: b_d_s_m@HOTMAIL.COM
I love to hear from readers.
MARGARET B
17.06.08