Birthday Present
by: Vickie Tern and Rhonda Wagram   © 1996

 

Chapter Fourteen: Prissy At Your Service
(in which our heroine is loaned out)

 

When Bea returned, I could see at once that she had had a marvelous time. She was radiant, relaxed, glowing with good spirits, and really nice to me. Of course I was once again her maid, with all of the discipline and formality and rules of behavior she had set down for me. But somehow there was a difference. She seemed less distant, almost friendly, almost as if I were an assistant instead of a servant. Of course she allowed me no familiarities -- I was still required to curtsy regularly, and address her as Madame. But now, when giving me orders, she would say "please," or "would you be so kind." She seemed happy, and concerned that I should be happy too. She was concerned too that I looked nice, and when we had guests for tea she made sure I was perfectly coiffed and attractively dressed. In fact, she took some of my uniforms back to the store and had them altered to look sexier. When they came back, their necklines plunged much deeper, baring my breasts nearly to my nipples, and my hemlines left little of my thighs to be imagined. "You have such a cute ass, now, Prissy," she said. "When you bend over, tease people. Let them glimpse it. And wiggle it now and then."

After one of those tea parties -- I think it was for some committee of a charity -- Bea told me that the other ladies were quite envious of her pretty maid. One of the ladies even asked to borrow her for a party the following week, and Bea agreed. "I'm sure you'll find it interesting," she told me.

I was doubtful. Being a domestic servant here in my own house to my own wife was one thing, but in a strange household, where nobody knew me -- the idea made me uneasy. What if someone realized I was no ordinary girl?

"On the contrary," Bea countered, "If nobody knows you, there's no danger that your little secret will be discovered, unless I were to say something like 'Don't keep my pretty little husband out too late. That cute tush of his needs its beauty rest.' I'm not likely to do that while you continue to do whatever I think appropriate, now am I? And this woman is prepared to pay you generously. Let's see. If you were there from about seven in the evening, and stayed until the last guests left, and helped clean up afterward, you could earn as much as $200! In a single evening! Just think of all the lacy lingerie you could buy with that! I think you should give it a try."

Well, I knew that Bea's suggestions were never casual. If she wanted me there, somehow I would be there. And so I was. And I must say, it was indeed interesting, modestly flaunting my charms to strangers. It was a party to announce their daughter's formal engagement, an announcement that surprised no one, since she and her fiance had already been living together for almost a year. The guests were all gracious and courteous to me, and I collected quite a few tips in addition to my salary, mostly from older gentlemen who passed most of the evening peering at my décolleté. Two or three were even so bold -- when they were sure their wives were occupied elsewhere -- as to ask if I was free to have dinner with them on my day off. I declined, naturally, but somehow I felt flattered.

When another of Bea's lady friends asked to borrow me for a party, I was quite willing to accept without Bea's urging. This time the party was to celebrate her husband's promotion to high executive status in his corporation, and a lot of people from the company were present, most of them men. One of the guests asked me to prepare a special drink at the bar, and while he was leaning forward to instruct me, he said suddenly in a low voice, "I think we've met before, haven't we?"

Well, that old line got from me an unthinking "I'm awfully sorry, sir, but I don't think so."

Then he shocked me. "Oh, but I am sure of it. You were a red-head then, and working as a receptionist for a Pearl somebody we sometimes do business with. I'm sure of it. Your face is changed a little, and you're a blonde now, but I could never forget your walk, those swinging hips prancing in those sky-scraper heels. And of course I remember the great blow-job you gave me."

I looking around to see if anyone had heard him. "Psst -- sir, I beg you," I said. My past life had caught up with me!

"Well, how about a repeat performance?," he said with affable assurance, looking to everyone else as if he were discussing differences among kinds of vermouth. "I'm ready to bet $100 that you can find the time and a place to accommodate me tonight. Or would you rather tell the hostess that I've asked to sample your special talents? Or shall I?" He peeled five twenties off of a fat money clip, rolled them up, and stuffed them into my cleavage.

I looked at him. He wasn't that bad looking. The five twenties were not an important incentive, but I dreaded the repercussions if word got out that Bea's maid had once been a corporate slut, a kind of salaried prostitute, and was now in business for herself. Bea might have to throw me out to preserve her own respectability.

I told him to wait five minutes and then come up to the guest room, the second door to the right on the second floor. I knew we could be private there, because that was the room given to me to change into my uniform. Still, I was a little apprehensive when I went there, and sat down to wait for him. He came in almost immediately, shut the door, and stood in the middle of the room, his cock hanging out before he had managed to stand still. Without a word, he pointed to a spot in front of him, and I kneeled down at his feet to do him. Oddly, it felt a little exciting, the way it felt when Steve was ordering me into bondage and I had to comply. I used all of my skills to bring him off fast, and succeeded in record time.

"You are a very talented girl," he said, patting my hair, as I licked him clean and zipped him back where he belonged. "If you should need any references, tell anyone to call Phillip Sculley, I will be glad to recommend you. Thanks a million, dear." He then left, leaving me still kneeling in the middle of the room. I was dazed. I was also humiliated.

I tried my best to forget the incident, but when I came home and undressed, the money fell from my cleavage and Bea saw it. I had to tell her what had happened. All she said was, "Well, that could become an interesting side-line to your job."

It soon was. Bea loaned me out a few more times, and one job three weeks later was memorable. It was an Elk's meeting, with about a dozen men, and I was the only woman. The newly elected chapter president was Philip Sculley, and he wanted to give his lodge brothers a treat -- me. That night I had no problem walking or standing in my high heels for long hours. I was mostly on my knees. Some guys came back for seconds, or even thirds. In the end my knees and my jaw were sore, but I cleared $1,200 in tips.

Bea had no problem with this. She took note that it was more money than I had ever earned before in 3 hours, and she took note that it was tax free, with no overhead to carry. "You should appreciate the fact that so many men find you attractive," was all she added. It was true enough. All those men waiting eagerly for me to get to them to suck them off had given me a feeling of importance, even of a special power I had over them. It was kind of thrilling. Even so, I thought, I'd rather select my own lovers, and take them on one at a time.

These extra jobs with their generous tips on top of my regular salary filled my bank account quite nicely, and when our wedding anniversary came closer, I wanted to give Bea a special present. Despite everything, we were still married, and I still loved her. On one of my free afternoons I went shopping, and found in a second hand store Steve pointed out a marvelous big Hèrmes hand-bag, looking absolutely new. This was exactly what Bea would love, I thought, since she usually tries to carry her whole office in her handbag, writing pads, Dictaphone, batteries, tapes, and sometimes even books. I wanted to surprise Bea with it, and asked the store owner to hold it for me, because at the house Bea might find it accidentally.

The surprise, however, was on me. A few days before our anniversary Bea told me she wanted a special present from me.

"Yes, Madame," I replied, wondering what was coming. I couldn't tell her I already had gotten her one. "What is it that Madame wishes from me?"

"Prissy, now we're talking about our anniversary, and anniversary presents should always be personal, from the heart. So you needn't maintain formality with me when we discuss this one subject. Now we're not mistress and maid, but two women sharing our lives with each other. What I'd like is a ring."

"A ring?"

"Yes, a nice little Prince-Albert ring," she said. "Not for me, darling, for you. I want you to wear it so you'll always be reminded of me. As a kind of memento, a keepsake. Especially now that other people find you so attractive, I think a ring like that would be helpful. I'll even buy it for you. Your present to me will be to wear it. Please, will you?"

That sounded rather sweet. I hadn't thought that Bea still felt that sentimental about me. "Of course, dear," I said grandly. "I'll be happy to wear it." I was especially happy she hadn't once reminded me to say 'Madame'.

"Why, thank you, darling. I'm very pleased that you've consented. I wouldn't really have wanted to order you to wear it, not at all. Not something so personal. I'll inform Kay tomorrow morning."

"What does Kay have to do with it?" I asked. "Are you buying it from her?"

"In a way, yes -- and Kay has to insert it."

"Insert it where?" I was bewildered. "I never knew Kay was also a jeweler."

"Why, in the tip of your cock of course. That's where men wear Prince-Albert rings." She paused and looked at me wide-eyed. "Don't tell me you don't know what a Prince-Albert ring is."

I had not the slightest idea. I assumed it was one of those elaborate pieces of jewelry the Victorians liked to wear.

"A Prince-Albert is a piercing that goes through your urethra, from the tip of your cock to its underside. A ring inserted into a Prince-Albert is a Prince-Albert ring. It's very simple."

I was completely dumbfounded, and feeling a little frantic. What was she doing to me this time? "I never agreed to a piercing through my cock!" I said. "Never!"

"Of course you did. I asked if you would wear a Prince-Albert ring for me, and you said you'd be happy to wear one. Not two minutes ago! Now don't try to go back on your word. You know I won't let you renege on any agreement you make with me."

She had done it to me again. I had agreed, not knowing exactly to what. I had fallen into her trap again. I knew it was useless to argue with her now. She wasn't even bothering to look at me, to see if I meant to protest.

"You know, I'll enjoy your wearing it. I heard about it from a friend whose husband wears one. She told me it felt sensational when they fucked, because it rubbed her sensitive tissues so enticingly. She told me it was a big help to their lovemaking, because her husband was not very big, and this made up for what was missing, and what she was missing. It was even better than a big cock, she told me."

"And you know," Bea went on, "Many men have bigger cocks than yours. I've sampled quite a few by now, as I'm sure you know. That's why I'm so happy to arrange for Steve to come by to distract you, when you might be worried that I'm fucking better men than you are. So you won't have time to brood about it. I'm sure you wouldn't want to deprive me of the added pleasure a Prince-Albert ring could give me when we're making love, would you?"

Well, what could I say to that? I'd do anything to enhance Bea's pleasure, so she'd want to keep fucking with me. "No, not at all," I muttered.

"I didn't think so," Bea said. "And you'll be delighted that a Prince-Albert has an additional use, too. We can tie a ribbon or something to it, then pull your whole cock back, to avoid unsightly bulges in your panties. You'll have a mound just like mine. Just think of it, you won't have to wear tight girdles under everything any more, and with the summer coming, you could wear wide, cool panties if you wish, and even skimpy string-bikini bottoms, without fear that your cock will expose you. Won't that be nice?"

I had to agree there were advantages.

"Fine. I'll call Kay then, and let her know you've agreed."

Kay insisted on a full anesthetic for this little operation, as she insisted on calling it, because I had to be fully relaxed, with no risk of a sudden rush of blood to the operating field. She told me that it would not be very painful afterwards, because the piercing would be done by a laser gun. The heat of the laser would seal the inner sides of the little hole, and speed healing enormously. I would be good as new within a few days. "Better than new," she added. "I hear that when you were new, you weren't that much."

When I came to after the operation, my whole groin was bandaged. By now I knew enough to look at Kay with deep anxiety, and she grinned. "Don't worry," she said, "It's all still there. And a little more. That little tube there is to let you pee past the piercing without irritating it. Keep it like that for a week, and then we'll remove it, and everything will be fine. Then you can test your ring's usefulness if you like. And if Bea likes."

That would be the day of our anniversary, and I planned to do a lot of testing then. Actually I was really glad that Bea was once again interested in my masculinity. This could be the start of a change in our relationship.

When the bandages were removed, I saw the ring for the first time. It seemed to be quite thick, though its diameter was rather small. I imagined that Bea would enjoy feeling it tucked into her cunt. Steve happened to be hanging out in Kay's office, and offered to take me home. I gladly accepted, because I was still sore, and felt a little queasy, "But first we have to pick up that bag I bought for Bea, at that store you showed me. I left it there."

The store owner went to fetch the bag from her store-room, and Steve meanwhile examined her other kinds of merchandise. He showed me a long gold chain with heart-shaped locket, opened the locket, and found a little padlock inside, complete with key. There were words engraved inside the locket in a small, fine script, hard to read. Steve took it to the light, and with squinting eyes read them aloud, "You've locked up my heart, And we'll never part, And this is the key To the rest of me."

"Now that's the kind of sentiment I appreciate," Steve said. "This would have made a very nice anniversary present too." He took out the lock. "It really works!" He opened and shut it with the little key, and the mechanism clicked open and shut smoothly, like a fine watch. "This is probably quite expensive, the way it's crafted. A real masterpiece," he observed as he put it back.

Just then the lady returned, her face sorrowful. "I must apologize, but we don't have that bag any more. My assistant must have sold it, not realizing that it was already sold. I'm truly sorry. This is very embarrassing for me. All I can do to compensate you for your disappointment is, offer you anything else in the store up to twice the price of that bag, for the same money. Or else, if you wish, I'll return you your purchase price, with apologies."

Of course I was very disappointed, but Steve again picked up the chain and locket. "How much is this?" It turned out to be more than twice what I had paid for the bag, but Steve began to haggle with her, and finally got her to agree to accept the trade. She put it into a leather covered box lined with red velvet, where it looked even more expensive.

I thought we had made an excellent deal, and gave Steve a big kiss when we got back in the car. "Was that Prissy's, or Honey's, or Henry's kiss, that you are so pleased with your wife's anniversary present," Steve asked, amused. He noticed that I was wearing my bracelets with the lock-clamps, and he clamped them together behind my back. "This will show Bea that you are all hers when we get home," he said.

When we got home, Steve opened the front door for me and carried the leather box with the chain and locket into the living room. There was Bea, arranging some flowers. I rushed over to her and gave her a kiss, and said, "Happy anniversary Darling." I then added, "And as a further token of my love for you, I've brought you a present". Steve handed her the box. She was really surprised. When she opened it and saw the chain and the locket, she put it around her neck right away. "The locket opens. There's something in it," I explained.

She opened it and took out the little padlock, marveling at its miniature precision. Then she read the inscription. "Oh! Darling, how sweet of you! I didn't know you wanted this so soon. Thank you, thank you, dear. But now let me see my other present."

She pulled up the wide skirt that I was wearing and took down my panties. "Sit down and lean back, I want to see all of it quite clearly." I sat down and pulled up my knees to give her a good view. "Wonderful! It's just what I had hoped. Now let's try it right away."

"Try what?" I asked, thinking she was inviting me to enter her pussy with it.

"Well, your other present, of course," Bea said. She took the little lock and hooked it into the Prince-Albert ring. Then she pulled my cock back between my legs and I heard something click. She let my cock go, but it stayed where she had put it, tucked way back. I tried to look, but couldn't see anything.

Bea was now deliriously happy. "This is the nicest present you've ever given me. Thank you sooo much, my darling. I wanted to use the ring to tie back your cock, so I asked Kay to install a second ring in your perineum, between your balls and your asshole. Then I could tie a ribbon between the two rings, to keep your cock out of sight whenever you wanted to wear a scanty bikini. I never dreamed you'd agree to a padlock. That's so wonderful! It's what I've wanted for so long. Now your cock really is all mine. I love you for it! Come, let me kiss you again."

I didn't understand. What did she say I had asked her? She was so happy, I didn't want to dampen her euphoria. She pulled me over to her and kissed me with a fervor I hadn't experienced in many weeks.

She let me go after what must have been several minutes, opened the locket again, and held it into the light to read the inscription again. "I still can't believe you agreed to this," she said, "but here it is engraved in gold for eternity: 'I give you this lock, To bind my cock, And this is the key To the rest of me.' That is so sweet! To give me complete control over your most private part, and make it mine exclusively, under my lock and key. So that now, not even you can use it without my consent! Oh, you are such a darling. What a wonderful anniversary present. And you're so right, that my control over your prick gives me control over all the rest of you. I just love it!"

What in heavens had I done this time? Had I really asked her to lock up my cock? I was speechless for a moment. I looked around for Steve, but he must have excused himself because he was gone. I simply could not tell Bea that it was all a misunderstanding.

The fact remained that my cock was locked up now, and would stay that way. Bea refused to remove the padlock. "Why? It's so sweet! And it's so practical for you! No more panty-girdles! No embarrassing bulges! You'll have to sit on the toilet all the time now, of course. But that's no hardship -- all women do that, and you've been doing it for the practice I know. And now, I know when I lend you out that none of those love hungry hostesses will be able to seduce you into making love as a man."

"Then again, there are other dangers. You're going to meet many more men soon, Prissy, and I've realized it was only a matter of time before some man using you as a woman wants you to use him the same way. There are such men. But now you can be a man only with me, and only when I want you to be. If I ever want you to be! I love this! No, we'll leave you locked up. And I'm so pleased that it was your idea."

And that was the end of it. There was no further discussion. The next morning, our anniversary over, I brought Bea her breakfast at the appointed time, curtsied, and asked the Madame if she wanted anything else. She just smiled.

Soon after, Bea informed me that Mr. Sculley had phoned her. He had asked whether it would be possible to have my services twice a week for his city apartment. He told Bea that he lived there as a bachelor because his wife never came to the city, preferring to stay in the country with her kids. His talents for keeping the apartment in order were very limited, he told her. He had a cleaning woman who came in twice weekly, but now she intended to retire and move to Florida.

I told Bea this was probably untrue. What he really wanted from me were very personal services. Bea saw no problem anyhow -- he'd paid well, and I couldn't say that he was personally revolting. At the Elk's meeting he had actually been nice, and had seen to it that I wasn't too swarmed by the other men. He was somebody one could grow to like.

I had my reservations, however. "Going to be his maid twice weekly could lead to trouble if his wife found out," I told Bea. "I mean, he's happily married with kids and all that. It could blow up right in my face. I could even be hauled into court as the 'third party' in a divorce action."

Bea calmed me. "He told me that his wife didn't expect him to live like a monk all week long. She understands he'll have affairs, as long as nothing serious develops. He told her he was getting 'extended maid service' as he called it, and his wife thought it a good idea, to have somebody take care of him who would be paid for her services. I told him that I could arrange for you to see him Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, and that as long as you were back the following morning, I wouldn't complain."

Now I had two jobs as a maid, one of them as a call girl as well. Mr. Sculley in fact paid me more for the two afternoons than Bea did for the rest of the week, and the work was not all that hard. He was rather tidy, and made little mess. He never ate at home, and all his washing was done by his wife. So I just had to vacuum and dust and make the bed. Yes. The bed. It did not take long each time before I found myself lying in it face down, with my ass high in the air, awaiting his cock. Mr. Sculley was not a man who took no for an answer, and he could see no reason why I would suck him off but balked at being fucked. I tried my best to hide my secret, and succeeded for about two weeks. But in spite of all the tricks I used, he discovered that I had a cock too. I could not use 'those days of the month' as an excuse when they extended all through the month and into the next.

At first I thought he would kill me -- but all he did after the first moment of surprise was to laugh. "Just think!" he roared. "All those stuffed shirts you sucked off at that meeting, all those super straight, macho guys who know all about women, who would rather jump from a thirteenth story window than have sex with a man! Prissy, you are worth a million! What you've been getting away with! Come here, Prissy! To me you are what you seem to be, a very pretty and sexy woman. Turn around, and I'll show you how I make love to a woman who is 'indisposed' to receive me in her cunt." And he did. And then again. And twice each week, after that.

He turned out to be a gentle and considerate lover, with lots of stamina. Soon I was looking forward to seeing him. Steve was no longer an occasional lover. He called a few times, and we agreed to get together, but we never did. Maybe he had been Bea's accomplice once too often -- his "accidental" discovery of that lock and key inside the locket, and his misreading of the inscription, were no more accidental than his bondage games. But he had done most of what Bea wanted. Little by little he had accustomed me to becoming her submissive, virtually her slave, now on loan to others.

Now my love-making with my wife was entirely limited to the kinds of lovemaking women perform with another. Mostly I pleasured her with my tongue. But as it turned out, once my cock was locked up she didn't again wish to release it for either her mouth or her cunt. Even masturbation was impossible with my cock locked back as it was. As I got more and more hard up, my asshole and my tits became more and more erogenous, the most erogenously available parts of me. I started to use a vibrator on myself, and my big butt-plugs made me horny. But they brought no real satisfaction. So l began to welcome having a lover twice a week, getting gloriously screwed, and getting paid for what I loved to do. Mr. Sculley never made me feel like a whore though. He was a real gentleman.

Even when he turned me into a real whore, he never let me feel like one. After a very satisfying love bout, while we were still recuperating side by side, he looked at me and said, "Prissy, you are wasted as a maid. How much do you make anyway? It's peanuts compared to what you could be earning. With your talents you could pull down half a grand for two hours work, really two hours of playtime for you, or a grand to enjoy yourself with a client for the night. Now, I'm not in that business, but I know a lady who runs an escort service for men. Would you be interested?"

"I'm not that kind of a girl," I replied. That cliche was the first thing that came to my mind when Mr. Sculley made that outrageous suggestion."

"Well, my dear, Bea called me. She tells me she'd like you to become that kind of a girl. She says she's always urged you to enjoy more men. Lots more men. She says you've understood that since your first night with Steve, when you first discovered the pleasures of feeling Steve in your ass. Isn't that so?"

It was so.

"She also said that it wasn't good for your self-respect to be dependent on her for your income. She pays you for your maid services, of course, but she says a girl like you needs a profession to fall back on if she must, a source of independent income. It builds confidence."

"Bea wants me to be a call girl as well as her maid? What if I won't do it?"

"Well, dear, if I'm any judge, you will do it. Her mind seems to be made up."

He was right. Bea had already decided. From then on I was listed as a specialty in the books of a very discreet escort service.

The men who hired me were all 'well-to-do,' and not very young any more. They all thought it thrilling to date a beautiful she-male. We usually went to a great restaurant for dinner, though sometimes only for cocktails, then usually back to their hotel. No money ever changed hands, and all financial matters were handled in advance by the escort service and Bea. I cleaned for Mr. Sculley twice each week, and was usually home in time to prepare dinner for Bea. Then, those evenings I went out again, booked for the evening or for the night, sometimes booked 'open end' and sometimes not.

'For the evening' meant up to 10:00pm, and 'for the night' meant until 7:00 am. 'Open end' meant that my butt-plug would not be locked on, and my ass was available. Bea had found that the little ring to which my 'Prince-Albert-ring' was locked could also be used to lock up my butt-plug so it couldn't be removed. So with a 'closed end' the pleasures I offered were strictly limited to my hands, tits, and mouth.

Even an 'open end' booking didn't necessarily mean I'd be fucked. Some of the gentlemen never made use of what they paid for. They just wanted to have dinner with me and to chat about life as a she-male. The first time I may have been a little morose -- I wasn't sure I wanted to be a call girl. Word got back to Bea, somehow, and she informed me that girls on dates are always lively, vivacious, lots of fun, delighted to talk about themselves, and always terribly interested in the man they happen to be with.

So that's what I became, a sprightly companion. Some men must have envied my apparently care-free life. Others, the older ones, probably wanted only to be able to tell their friends that "I booked her 'open end,' and then stuffed her shut!" I developed a reputation in certain circles as both good company and a good lay. I felt more and more like a woman. As I took off my maid's uniform some evenings, and selected an evening gown or dinner dress suitable for my scheduled night's work, I realized that I had no time to think of myself as a man any more. That kind of consciousness hardly existed. Its only remnant was my locked-back cock, a souvenir from a former life as someone else.

 

Chapter Fifteen: Prissy Sells Out
(in which our heroine facilitates the sale of her business)

My life took on a routine. I began to suspect that Bea had always had something in mind for me that she wasn't telling me, from the way she had hurried me from my dull masculinity of two years ago to now, my days spent in formal servility as her maid, and my nights spent entertaining other men with my mouth, ass, and a lively feminine charm I was still developing. Now I wasn't sure what Bea was doing. She took to going away most weekends, never telling me where or why, but she never left me alone to think things through for myself. When the escort service didn't schedule me to serve as some wealthy man's delightful companion, Steve returned to help me fill the time. Most of that time I spent bound and helpless. He devised several intricate ways to restrict me even when we were out in public, and I came to feel uneasy the few times he left me free, on my own.

Once, in fact, he took me to dinner and then unlocked my handcuffs, excused himself, told me he'd see me back home in two hours, and left me. No explanation. I tinkered with my food but couldn't eat, felt ashamed to call for the check, and felt even more helpless, even embarrassed, trying to decide how much of a tip to leave. Then the thought of calling for a taxi and paying the driver almost paralyzed me. I had become so dependent on people taking care of me in return for sexual favors, that I felt helpless without them. Even a little frightened. When I arrived home Steve was waiting for me in the living room, and I begged him to tie me up. When he had bound me hand and foot, only then did I feel secure enough to smother him with kisses, I could hardly wait for the love-making that followed.

So I was grateful when one day Bea called me into her study, and when I had curtsied and said "Madame?" she leaned forward on her desk, and clasped her hands, and looked me in the eyes.

"You know, Prissy," she said. "I think we need to evaluate your current situation. You've lived and loved as a woman now for many months. You like it. You're growing more and more dependent on Steve, and your other men, and on me, and more and more uncertain about money, and business. In a way it's part of your femininity. Who would have thought you'd lapse back to being such a sweet little girl in some respects? Now then. I'm sure you don't want to go back to being an active partner in your partnership, ever again. You've lost your head for business, from using it so often for other things. I think you should sell your shares, and put the proceeds in a trust fund for your retirement. Don't you agree?"

I had wondered about that myself. Returning to work now seemed quite impossible, but if I were to sell out, I'd hardly realize anything from my shares in the firm. My partners were shrewd, and would certainly use my present helplessness to bring down the price. I said so to Bea.

"Prissy -- let me do it. I'll need your cooperation, but I already have a plan." I had learned to worry about Bea's plans, and I wondered if I should feel sorry for my partners. But I didn't.

A week later, on Sunday, Bea invited my three partners, Martin, Randolph and William, to our house. But she invited Martin for breakfast, Randolph for lunch and William for dinner, and told each of them not to talk about it to the others. As the man who had started the business, I held 28% of the partnership's shares, and each of the others 24%. Bea hinted to each in turn that I was prepared to sell my shares to him alone, giving him more than 50%, effectively giving him uncontested ownership of the business. All three of them were quite interested.

On that Sunday Bea made me wear a special uniform prepared just for this occasion. It barely covered my tits, and if I bent over and jiggled even a little, they popped out altogether into plain sight. Then she gave me my instructions.

"When Martin comes, I'll start the discussion and make him the offer. Then I'll let the timer go off in the kitchen and excuse myself to attend to it, promising to be back in a few minutes. It's then up to you, Prissy. It'll be your job to seduce him. Wiggle your ass and pop your boobies in his face while you pour his coffee, get him hot, then go down on him and suck him off. You can do it, my dear. I've heard reports. You're a professional! A virtuoso! I hear there's no stopping you when there's a prick slipping in and out of your mouth! I'll re-appear shortly after he cools down. Then you'll do the same with the other two."

I did not like this scenario. It was humiliating for me to suck my own partners' cocks, but Bea assured me it was necessary, and they'd never recognize me. I had sucked so many pricks recently, she said, that three more couldn't matter in the slightest.

Bea judged my partners exactly right. Each time she disappeared into the kitchen to attend to her timer, I came in with a little tray of petite fours and coffee. I bent low to set it on the coffee table, my tits full in each of their faces, and when I stretched up again they jumped out of my dress and stood out naked, nipples hardened. I feigned embarrassment while accidentally touching my nipples to each man's face as I stood. Each tried to console me, yet each reached to caress my tits and ended by taking my nipples into their mouths. After a few moments I could feel their pricks straining against their trousers, and I rubbed against them until they seemed ready to burst. Each time I had to hurry to take them out and suck on them, and in just another moment each of them squirted cum into my mouth, too frantic to wait any longer. After I had carefully tucked them back into their pants, they each asked me for a date. "I am sure I'll see you again soon," I answered, "I'll call you."

I then withdrew and let Bea have the field. She told me the negotiations proceeded quite pleasantly, and that she received substantial offers for my shares. She said to each that she would think it over, and suggested a partnership meeting for next Wednesday at 11:00 am at the office. All agreed.

The next Wednesday we went to the office. It was a strange feeling for me to go to my own office again after more than a year. So much had happened. The secretaries checked me over, because I was dressed on the edge of indecency, but none of them dreamed I was their former boss. Early in my transformation Bea had kept me home so the regimen of hormones could take over, and I could get accustomed to wearing only skirts and dresses, and to moving like a woman. Now here I was, wearing the cherry-red business suit Pearl had me wear to assist her with advantageous deals for her company. I was a wet dream, provocative when I worked for Pearl, and now with my far-bigger tits quite devastating. The partners were astonished to see that Bea had brought her maid, but said nothing.

Bea explained to them all that she had received offers from each of them for Henry's share, but that she thought those offers much too low, given the circumstances. They each protested, and told her to look at the figures. They had been more than fair. Bea then hauled out her heavy artillery. Knowing how she had manipulated me out of my manhood, into subservience, and into prostitution, I watched with some interest and a little amusement.

"I think under the circumstances, Henry deserves a far better offer than any of these. In fact I think Henry's share in the partnership is worth more than any one of you can afford. I think it would be wise if you pooled your offers and came up with a joint offer consisting of all three. Then you could re-divide Henry's shares however you chose, after we've gone."

"Impossible!" said Martin.

"Each one of us has already offered much more than those shares are worth" said Randolph.

William stood up and declared "No way will we pay more!" Then he sat down. They all were adamant.

Martin obviously thought Bea was naively unrealistic, being only a woman. "Why can't we talk it over with Henry? Where the hell is he? Why isn't he here?"

"But he is here," Bea said, and she turned to me. "This lady here is my husband. This woman is your partner, who owns a controlling share in the partnership and if she wished, could drive it into the ground and render your own shares worthless. Unless you can agree. May I present your partner and I am sure your favorite cocksucker, Henry?"

I hadn't expected this at all, and tried to sink into the ground. My face suddenly matched the color of my suit. A deadly silence ensued.

Then William spoke up, almost whispering "You mean to tell us ... I mean this...this... is... ?"

"Yes, of course he is," said Bea. "Honey, pull up your skirt and show them what's left of the old Henry."

Well, the damage was done already and there was nothing more for me to lose. Any dignity or respect I had enjoyed among my partners had just gone down the drain, I thought, so what the hell, I would show them.

I raised my skirt and lowered my panties. Now I knew why Bea had forgotten to re-lock my cock after my morning cleansing -- accidentally I had thought when it happened, though I should have learned by now that nothing Bea did was ever accidental. They all saw what was left of the old Henry -- and to my shame, it looked as if what little there was was growing.

"Are you satisfied, Gentlemen? OK Honey, you may cover yourself again."

She turned back to the men, each still under shock. "Oh -- before I forget. Since you all loved being serviced by my little she-male maid last Sunday, I've brought each of you a little present." She dug into her purse and produced three gift wrapped video-cassettes. "Here -- let me see, I put the names on these little cards. This one is for you William, and this is yours, Randolph, so this one must be for you Martin. Don't bother to look now, I know that these tapes will be thrilling for you to watch. They each show a respectable man, supposedly respectable, being seduced by a servant girl who is actually a she-male. I think the setting looks rather familiar. Your wives and employees will enjoy seeing them. We'll see they do. I'll keep these cassettes for the moment until we settle our deal."

"Now I think the two of us will leave you for five minutes, to let you make up your minds, and confer, and come up with a sensible offer. I've mentioned the sum of your individual offers as reasonable. And I know you can each of you pay that much, because each of you was prepared individually to pay that much. Here's a contract. Please look it over. Henry has already signed it, and it is notarized, and the figure I've mentioned is already entered. We lack each of your signatures. Come along, dear, give them time to think it over."

She took my arm and we went out.

"Did you have to tell them who I am, Bea?" I asked. "It's humiliating!"

"Oh, I thought they should know who they're dealing with. Besides, how can being a woman be humiliating? I'm sure you felt privileged when I told them!"

One of the secretaries brought us coffee while we waited in the reception area. In less than five minutes, Martin stuck his head out of the conference room and bade us to come in again. They evidently had not quite recovered, but had nevertheless agreed.

Randolph spoke after clearing his throat noisily. "Bea, we have decided to accept your offer, which is clearly an offer we cannot refuse. But we must have those tapes and know that no other video tapes exist depicting us and some ... person, supposedly ... Henry, in a compromising situation."

Bea reached for some other papers in her dispatch case. She smiled. "I had anticipated that you would listen to reason. Of course I understand your position. I have here prepared a declaration here, signed by Henry and me, that says 'We hereby certify that none of us have any copies of the video-cassettes handed to you today nor have we stored copies of it nor the original recording tape at any third place and that the copies now hereby handed over to you are the only ones of this kind we have ever had in our possession.' I think that should be satisfactory to you." They nodded their agreement. "Now if you would just all sign the agreement, I think we can conclude our business of today."

They all nodded and signed, and at their insistence, in their presence, I signed again. There must have been some doubt in their minds that I was who Bea said I was. The amount they were paying us seemed to me staggering. But we each exchanged signed copies, Bea handed over the gift wrapped cassettes and we took our departure.

"Have a nice day, Gentlemen," said Bea. "It was a pleasure to do business with you," Bea waved her hand graciously at them as we went out "We expect your check by Monday next week. Oh yes, as a special bonus, you can each have another one of Henry's champion blow jobs if you wish, right now or at your convenience."

I was devastated and humiliated. But my partners had had enough of me. "Keep him," said Martin. "She's all yours."

I recovered from all this only after we sat together in the car for a while. "I never knew you had taped our er ... activities last Sunday? Where was the camera?" I asked Bea.

"Are you out of your mind? I never taped anything. That would have been blackmail. I'm not a criminal."

"Then what was on the cassettes you gave them?"

"What I said, a picture of a she-male maid seducing a man. I picked up three copies of a she-male picture on 42nd Street the last time I came through New York. That is what I gave them. And I could truly state that I had neither the original recording tape nor any more copies of this picture in my possession. It is all very true. I can't help it if they assumed there was something else on the cassettes. They'll discover that to 'assume' often makes an ASS out of you U and ME, as a lawyer friend once told me. Now don't worry, they don't have anything to stand on if they want to go to court. Believe me, their check will be in the mail Monday. Do you really think they would risk putting their behavior in front of a jury? In front of their families? Don't you worry your pretty head, darling, your Bea has taken care of all the angles. I promised you that I would look after you. And I always will. As long as you do whatever I say."

Well, despite Bea's self-confidence, I was skeptical. I knew my partners. I knew they would move heaven and earth to get out of this contract, and on Monday I thought I was right. There was no check in the mail. But Bea was unperturbed when I mentioned this to her respectfully -- I did not want to imply that I had been right and she had been wrong in assessing the situation. "It's still Monday, so the check can still arrive on time," she said, "and I am sure it will."

In the afternoon she told me to cook a gourmet dinner for two, because she expected a guest. "And make yourself especially pretty. I've put out a uniform for you to wear. Put on sexy face, you know, more eye-shadow and mascara, and paint your mouth a really bright red." I was curious whom she expected, but didn't dare ask. Did she want to show me off to one of her lady friends? Or even to a man, a new lover maybe?

I put on the uniform dress. It was black taffeta and probably the tightest I had. I had to wear an extra tight corset to fit into it. It left most of my boobs bare and followed my figure closely to below my calves, accenting my round derriere and my thighs. The skirt was so tight, I could scarcely walk, and I knew I would have a hard time going down the stairs, especially with five inch heels. But as I crossed to the mirror I could feel my hips rotate sensuously, and within a few steps the skirt was forcing me to undulate in the most shamefully provocative way!

My apron was a lacy thing that accented my round, narrow waist and seemed to point right at my crotch. The cap was just a starched piece of lace that was worn like a tiara. I tried to follow Bea's demands for my makeup without looking downright sluttish, but it came out exaggeratedly sexy anyhow. With mascara on them, my lashes were extremely dark and long, and with the added heavy eye-shadow they became perfect 'bedroom-eyes'. To stay in style, I outlined my full lips with a rather dark red pencil and filled it with fire-engine-red lipstick. All in all, my face had the opposite of a 'natural look' -- in fact, it was a face of a woman with unnaturally exotic sexual appetites.

When I went down to start the dinner, Bea looked at me and nodded approvingly. "That's the look I wanted for you. Have dinner ready promptly at seven thirty. My guest will arrive at seven.". She still gave me not the slightest hint who the guest would be.

I had dinner nearly ready, and had set the table for two, when the door chimes sounded. I went to open the door and found myself face to face with my former partner Randolph! Of all people, I would never have expected him! He smiled at me with a barely restrained leer as I curtsied and begged him to come in.

"Well, Henry, there you are again," he said. He shook his head. "What women can do to us when they set their minds to it! But you're practically one of them yourself now, aren't you. The way you wrap those lips around a man's cock! Where did you learn that? Well, Bea was nice enough to invite me for dinner when I called her and told her I was dropping off the check after work today." He handed me a nicely arranged bunch of flowers.

"Please come in and make yourself comfortable, I'll get a vase for these." It was so mortifying to face him like this, I felt a deep blush rise to my face. Why did Bea have to invite him? It was awful enough that she had revealed my true identity at the meeting. I mean, making me seduce and suck off all three of my partners was bad enough, but they probably still thought my appearance as Bea's maid was just a setup for that occasion. Now worse, Randolph could see that I actually was Bea's maid, not just playing it for their benefit.

When we entered the living-room, Bea -- her timing perfect as always -- came down the stairs and greeted Randolph as if an old friend. She had changed to a beautiful cocktail dress, and her makeup was elegantly restrained, nowhere near as sexy as mine. "Would you like a cocktail before dinner? Or a glass of champagne?" Bea asked sweetly.

"Nothing strong please, I have to drive back. A small glass of champagne would be fine."

"All right then." She turned to me, "Champagne for our guest, and I'll have a very dry martini please, Prissy."

I curtsied, "Very well, Madame," and swiftly went to the kitchen. I had to sit down for a moment to recover from my embarrassment. What a shameful situation! I wanted to die! But I didn't, and there was no way out, so I put the flowers into a vase and brought them their cocktails. I couldn't bear to look into my former junior partner's face, so I kept my eyes downcast. I had taught him the business, and now here I was serving him champagne, dressed up as a sexy maid in my own house.

Bea seemed amused to notice my confusion, but paid no attention and carried on her light conversation with Randolph. I returned to the kitchen and then brought out the flowers, placing them on the coffee-table.

"Thank you, Prissy, that'll be all for now. Let us know when dinner is ready to be served," she said to me. Then, to Randolph, "She's a great cook too, not just great looking, as you'll see. And I've taught her such lovely manners!"

"Dinner can be served any time now," I said as I curtsied, and tried to withdraw to the kitchen.

"Then, by all means, let's begin," said Bea. They both got up, and very much the gentleman, Randolph offered her his arm to guide her to the table.

I had to put my mind to serving dinner now, with no time for other thoughts. I lit two candles on the dinner table, and then served them with all my skill, and as formally as the occasion seemed to require, asking if more was wanted, or refilling glasses. But I felt nearly destroyed! Why was Bea doing this to me? I noticed Randolph's eyes following my every move. Several times he was so much caught up by what he saw, that he forgot his conversation, and Bea had to repeat a question she had just asked.

After the appetizers he finally raised the subject that was evidently foremost on his mind. He did it while I was in the kitchen preparing to serve the second course. When I entered, I heard Bea giving him a short report how she had led me into femininity, always accentuating the fact that I had agreed to every step, even asking for permanent makeup myself, so now I had to remain feminine for the foreseeable future. I only caught parts of their conversation while moving between the kitchen and their table.

"... tried working in an office of a friend of mine, but it didn't work out. Within a week she was the company slut. I had to pull her ..."

"... I offered her a job as my personal live-in maid and she took it, even bought all of the necessary uniforms. I pay her a small salary, but room and board are free of course. At first I thought it wouldn't work out either, but with patience and strictness I trained her, and she became a well-behaved, devoted and obedient servant. You would not believe how long it took her to learn to curtsy properly. All little girls seem to pick it up automatically and never forget how to do it later. But it took a lot of training for Prissy until she did it correctly, showing the necessary respect and not making a parody of it by overdoing it. Isn't that true, Prissy?"

"Yes Madame, it is." It was so humiliating, but I had to say it and I had to curtsy respectfully as she had demanded. With the ultra tight skirt it was not easy, but she gave me a smile, showing she was content with my efforts.

"Amazing, simply unbelievable," Randolph observed, never letting me out of sight. "Who would have thought that dear drab old Henry would have it in him. He really has turned from an ugly caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly."

"It was a long and slow process," Bea took a sip from her glass, musing about his 'caterpillar to butterfly' remark. "But there came a time when the feminized man became the girl I wanted him to be, even in her own mind ...."

It was terrible to hear them talk this way about me, but the worst was yet to come. "Shall we take coffee in the living-room?" Bea asked after they had finished dessert, rising already. Randolph got up too. "Prissy bring the coffee over. You can leave this for the moment and clear up later." Why would she have said this? Just to show how she was able to give me orders?

When I brought the coffee, I heard Randolph saying "... quite an interesting offer when you left us Wednesday, and I want to take you up on it. You said -- if I remember correctly -- 'you can each have another one of Henry's delicious blow jobs if you wish, right now or at your convenience.' Well, the others don't seem to be inclined, but after an excellent meal like this, I must say, a blow-job by your marvelous husband would be delightful -- better than a cigar, and certainly it wouldn't interfere with my ability to drive."

When I heard where this conversation had gone, I just put down the coffee for Bea to serve and tried to disappear back to the safety of the kitchen as quickly as my tight skirt and high heels allowed. No chance. All I managed to do was turn and wriggle my ass temptingly at them as I tried to get my feet moving.

"Why don't you pour the coffee Prissy? Milk, sugar, Randolph?"

"Just milk please, thank you."

"You heard what the gentleman said, Prissy. So serve him."

I returned to the table, poured black coffee for Bea, and coffee with milk for Randolph. "Will that be all, Madame?"

"Of course not. Didn't you hear me? I said serve him. I mean give him the blow-job I promised him. Don't fidget. Down on your knees, Henry, and do it NOW!"

I felt terrible. Why did she suddenly use my old name? Did she really mean it? I looked at her. The stern expression on her face told me without the slightest doubt that she did mean it. I had to do it. I knew. There was no way around it. I knelt down in front of him, opened his fly and took out his already growing cock, holding it in both of my manicured hands. For some reason I had never before noticed how red my nail-polish looked when my fingers were wrapped around a man's cock. I glanced up. Randolph was smirking. I glanced at Bea. She was smiling too, interested, watching me closely.

Well, I did my best to bring him off quickly, and I soon succeeded. By now I knew what turns men on. I could have written a text-book about cock-sucking. As he spurted into my mouth I swallowed his load dutifully, then stole another look at Bea. She had watched the proceedings without changing her expression, still an amused smile.

"That's my sweet Prissy! I can see why so many men have said you have a natural talent for sucking cock, and are wasted doing anything else. You've gotten really expert. Now clean him nicely, put him back in his pants, and thank Mr. Goodman for letting you enjoy him."

This was the ultimate humiliation, but I did as I was told. "Thank you, Sir," I said from between his knees, addressing his crotch, unable to raise my head to look him in the eyes. "It was a pleasure."

"Oh, no trouble at all, in fact it was my pleasure. You are welcome to it any time, Prissy."

I got up as fast as I could, and curtsied to Bea. I wanted to get out as fast as possible. I felt devastated. "Is there anything else I can do Madame?"

"No Prissy, I don't need you anymore tonight. You can go after you clear away the dishes. Say good night to Mr. Goodman and thank him for the trouble he took bringing me the check."

I curtsied to Randolph. "Thank you, Sir, for coming over to bring Madame the check. It was a pleasure having you here." He got up and came to me. "Prissy, I have to thank you for an excellent dinner. You deserve the highest praise for all of your talents." He took my hand and shook it. He left something in it. I curtsied again to both of them and went into the kitchen. When I looked at my hand, there was a $20 note. OH NO! Even this! Tipped for my services as a cock-sucking maid by my former junior partner. And I could do nothing about it. I just let myself fall down on the nearest chair, overwrought and exhausted, and started crying, sobbing uncontrollably.

That is how Bea found me after Randolph had left.

"Is something wrong, Prissy?" She sounded concerned.

"How could you do this to me?" I sobbed. "How could you?"

Bea responded swiftly, her jaw tense, as if she were suppressing great anger. "Prissy, don't you dare to act up now. Do you hear me? Look at me!"

I looked up at her, tears streaming. My mascara must be ruined, I suddenly thought irrelevantly. My face must be a mess. Oh, dear! What must she think of me?

"What I did was entirely necessary," Bea said. "As is everything else I do with you. In this case I had to sever your last ties with your past as Henry. Now this has been done. Tomorrow all of your partners will know who and what you are, your new position in life, exactly. They will know that there is no connection between today's Prissy and the former Henry. I had to clear away any doubts they might have."

"But far more important, I had to clear away any doubts you might still have. If anyone was humiliated tonight, it was Henry. Prissy would never have felt humiliated -- Prissy loves to serve, and she's good with men, isn't she? Yes, she is! I hope Henry now knows that there's no place for him here, and that he's gone for good."

"I accomplished exactly what I set out to accomplish. We have the money for Henry's business. You know now that you are better off as Prissy, that Henry is only an embarrassment to you. It may have been difficult for you, but there was no other way for you to learn it, was there? It's finished now, it's been done. No use crying. Now dry your tears, Prissy, do the dishes, and go to bed. Good night!"

With this she left me to my anguish. I sobbed a little more, then sat up and looked into my little hand mirror. I was right, my face was a mess. I started blotting up my tears.

Chapter Sixteen: Death and Resurrection
(in which our heroine learns she has run out of alternatives)

Almost a year had gone by since Bea's fateful birthday party. I could see that my permanent make-up was finally beginning to fade. I had to use lipstick all the time now to look respectable whenever I went out, because my lips were now only slightly pink. I also had to put on blusher and eye-shadow all the time, as these pigments had disappeared completely. Only the eye-liner still was clearly visible. The day the eyeliner disappeared was to be the day when I could resume my life as a man. I would be a man with breasts and pouting lips, and a woman's voice and eyes and curving figure, and a cock ring, but still, I was determined to believe, a man.

But now the question was -- did I want to? I was feminine not only in my looks but now, my actions, and most astonishing to me, in some of my thinking and feeling. I really did not know what I would do if I were once again a man. Of course biologically I was still a man. But could I live as one again? Would I want to go through a transition period in reverse? How would it be to wear trousers and heavy flat shoes? Could I give up my never-ending variety of dresses and skirts and, yes, cute-looking maid's uniforms, just for the choice between either a drab three piece business suit or jeans and a T-shirt?

Men can take no pleasure in the way they dress. What choices do they really have? Now, when selecting a dress, I could reflect and express how I felt, how I wanted to be seen and judged by others, how I wanted to be treated. Could I exchange all of this for the right to wear a three-piece suit? Why? And their underwear! Men's choices lie between boxer and jockey shorts -- period. But what an unlimited variety there is for women to chose from, all of them feeling delicious in the skin, silky soft. Should I give up all these?

Then too, I was coming to love being a woman with a man. Being taken care of, and treated like something precious and fragile, in exchange for looking beautiful and now and then giving them great head and a well-turned ass. Bea was right, I was good at giving blow jobs. And I had to admit it, I was beginning to love the feel of a cock in my mouth, or in my ass. That was when I felt most ... somehow ... complete!

But there remained the undeniable fact that I was born a man, and had lived so long as a man that it ought to seem unnatural for me to live as a woman. I certainly should turn back.

While I contemplated all of this I didn't know, although I should have expected it, that the decision had already been made. One evening after I had finished with all my duties and had asked Bea -- curtsying nicely -- if she needed my services any more tonight, she waved to me to join her. She was sitting at the coffee-table and had a lot of papers around her. When I wanted to sit down next to her on the sofa, she motioned to me to kneel next to her on the floor. I did, and she patted me on the head rather affectionately.

"Prissy Darling, I know that you've had troubling thoughts about your future. I want you to know that you need never fear that you will be left alone. I shall always see that someone looks after you. I love you, not for what you were, but what you've been willing to become for me. For what you are. I'll take care of you."

I thought that I had been quite capable at protecting myself in my former life, and would probably be able to do so in the future, but she went on.

"It is quite impossible for you ever to become a man again, your former self. It's ridiculous for you even to think of it. But I know that you feel somewhere between your two existence: the former Henry and the present Prissy. So I have decided to do away with this ambiguity. As from today you will only be Prissy, legally and in every other respect."

She handed me a stack of papers. "First of all, look! Here is a birth certificate for one Priscilla Littlecock, born in Kansas, now age 32. With what Kay did to rejuvenate you, you don't look a day older. Here is a driver's license in that name, with your picture on it. Here's a passport with your name and picture -- and all of the papers are genuine and perfectly legal. Here are a few credit and charge cards in your name, and your social security number, and in this box here are IRS records -- everything you may need for a perfectly legal existence. You are now Priscilla Littlecock. Nobody can deny it. Least of all, you."

I looked at the stuff she showed me -- it was true, there was an entire valid identity for me as Priscilla Littlecock. But I still had a choice!

Bea seemed to motion me away, and I stood and was beginning to curtsy again in farewell when she said, "But you cannot be two persons at a time. So second of all, I have had to do away with Henry. Here, look at this. This says that dear Henry passed away on a jungle excursion in Mexico, bitten by a snake, and that he died before he could get help. That I had to fly down to identify him. That I was mourning deeply -- and I looked beautiful in my black dress with the widow's veil, and everybody was so nice to me and full of sympathy. The mayor of the little town tried to cheer me up, and said 'You are still so young and pretty, you will find another husband soon'. I told him, that I sincerely did hope to find somebody to help me recover from my terrible loss. Of course, I had Henry cremated and buried where he died."

"I thought you should know this, Prissy. And I thought you would want to hear the news standing, out of respect for poor Henry. He is dead, and nothing either of us can do will bring him back to us. You may take a moment to pay your last respects, and then kneel down again."

The fact that I was now dead hit me like a bomb. No matter what Bea had done to me, I had always preserved the idea that I could go back. It might cost me my marriage, and any chance of a future relationship with Bea. But I could go back, and be a man again. So I had thought. I knelt down now, and bowed my head.

I was not prepared for what came next.

"You remember, just after we married, we made out our wills, each naming the other the sole heir. Well, now that Henry is dead, I have inherited everything from him. Now I own this house, and all of Henry's bank accounts. That includes the account with his investment bankers who administer Henry's investments, and the proceeds from the sale of his business -- well, that should have been mine to begin with, because Henry would have sold his interest for so little, and I got so much for it. But no matter. It's all mine now. Henry is dead, and has left everything to me. And I've since collected Henry's insurance, too."

"To my certain knowledge Prissy Littlecock has no tangible assets anywhere to speak off. She has earned quite a bit of money as a whore, but what with expenses, and taxes, and supervisory charges, there's nothing of that left. So Prissy should be grateful that I intend to take care of her, and that I give her a home, and clothe and feed her. Prissy, I'm sure you are grateful. I'll appreciate your telling me, right now."

Bea looked down at me, still kneeling next to the couch where she sat. Did she mean for me to kiss her in gratitude? Somehow I thought not. There was a formality about Bea at this moment, even a severity....

I stood up, and straightened my skirt, and curtsied as low as I could. While I was as far down as my legs would bend, and my chin was tucked far into my neck, I said, "Thank you madame, I am grateful for your kindness to me."

I realized then that the extravagance of this comment to her could seem sarcastic. She was testing me, and wanted to know that there was nothing she could say or do from now on that would strain my subservience to her least whim. Nothing! Never mind the disappearance of tens of thousands of dollars I had earned with my mouth and asshole, and of all of the wages she had contracted to pay Prissy. This was the moment when I had to tell her I would accept whatever she did, no matter how outrageous, or else leave.

I stood up, and repeated my thanks to her. "I am very grateful to you, Madame. My only wish is to serve you. Please allow me to continue to serve you. Please." And to my astonishment, my eyes overflowed, and tears came down my cheeks. And my mouth repeated my last word. "Please!" I said again. More tears.

Bea looked up at me with delight, a little amazed at how thoroughly she had done her job. She gestured for me to kneel again at her feet, and I did.

"But child, I've told you that I shall never let you go, my sweet, faithful Prissy, my favorite girl, my own creation. If you had just announced that you wished to leave me, I would merely have arranged for you to have more training and conditioning for the life I want you to live from now on, until you could give me the response I just heard."

"My dear, you will stay in my employment forever. But now you confront a moment of real choice. Now that I know you wish to stay, I will allow you to accept or reject the my conditions for your staying. I have a contract drawn up here under which I employ you for the next ten years, with a recurring option for both parties to continue for another ten years, and so on. I guarantee you a life without fears or difficult choices. But I'll want something in return. This contract says I can use you for any services that are not outright forbidden by law, if you are able to render them. Any services, Prissy! I don't think that this is too much to ask of you under the circumstances. If you agree, sign here. If you don't agree, then pack up your maid's uniforms and leave here by tonight, and I will never wish to see or hear from you again. I'm sure you can always earn your living as a servant somewhere, or peddling your ass on the street. I've taken care that way that you'll never have to starve. But it would be ungrateful for you to leave, after all my efforts on your behalf. Make your choice now."

With that she handed me a multi-page legal document. "If you sign it, please initial all of the pages at the bottom. And of course sign it with your true legal name: Priscilla Littlecock."

Did she say I had a choice? What choice was that? If I didn't sign, my only chance to survive was to find work as a maid, but with no references, or find work as a whore, and get picked up by a pimp, and shot full of drugs to be made compliant, and turn tricks for him as he directed me. How long would I survive that? A week, a month, maybe even a whole year? A she-male has a dangerous life out there on the streets. I didn't think I had a choice. I signed.

"I knew you would make the right choice." Bea collected her copy and gave me mine. "Now, my dear Prissy, good night. I don't need your services any longer tonight. This is a special time for you, the first night of your life as no one but who you are. As Prissy Littlecock. Enjoy your freedom from all previous worries about managing your own life, Prissy. Sleep well!" She turned her attention back to her papers on the coffee table, and as before, I no longer existed for her.

I got up, and without thinking I curtsied and then went to my room. My fate was sealed. I would now be a woman for life, maybe a whore too for as long as men found me attractive, and Bea's maid for life too. It was not a bad life really, as I had experienced it during the past months, but it was terrible to have no other choice. I cried silently into my pillow until sleep overtook me.

When the alarm rang the next morning I got up and went through my morning routine. I cleaned myself inside and out, and brushed my hair -- now reaching my shoulder-blades -- and repaired my make-up. All this I did automatically, without thought, as I thought about last nights revelations. There was no doubt about it, I was now legally a woman. My former self as Henry was dead and buried. I was a woman named Priscilla Littlecock. I resented this name, because it reminded me of my former existence in a rather humiliating way. But I was stuck with it.

I realized that Bea had sealed every loophole I could have found. I was not only stuck with this terrible name, but with the whole person that came with it. I had signed that long-term employment agreement with Bea, and was now her maid for the foreseeable future. Well, I had been that before, and life had been bearable. No, in some ways, life had been quite enjoyable. And actually, not much had changed since last night. It was a life with very few responsibilities, and the most important was always to look beautiful and sexy.

Well, that was a task I could manage. I had come to love my dresses, even my maid's uniforms. I loved the feel of skirts flowing around my legs, and the feeling of taut stockings brushing together at my thighs. I even loved my corsets -- not because they felt good, but because they gave me such a great figure that men would twist their necks to look at me. All in all, I had become quite comfortable in my feminine persona. Last night it was just the shock of it, I decided, the finality, the confirmation that my status as a woman now was irreversible. Without admitting it, I had suspected as much for a long time, but somehow I still had held on to the illusion that I could go back and become a man again if I wanted to. Bea had now destroyed this illusion. In reality, that was all she had done, destroyed an illusion I had held on to much too long. I had to admit that my head was clearer now than last night.

Well, so be it, I said to myself as I got ready to start the first day of the rest of my life as Bea's maid. I should have known by this time that Bea had other ideas for me.

A few weeks later, Bea suggested that I go to Celeste to renew my permanent make-up. I think she did it to test whether I had accepted the irreversibility of my feminization. I didn't disagree with her at all. I simply curtsied as usual, and said "Yes, Madam. Right away!"

I was glad to have it done. It had served me well in the past, and it was good for any woman of my station in life. I told Celeste to make it more dramatic and sexier than the first time. I considered that it wouldn't matter in the morning, when no one would see me, and that if I went out in the afternoon in my uniforms or dresses, a provocative make-up was appropriate.

Celeste agreed with me completely, and was delighted to go all out with her art. "Prissy, it's been a pleasure to help you arrive at the truth about yourself. Why in the world you ever wanted to be a man I can't imagine. Bea's done wonders convincing you. I'll bet in another six months she'll have you menstruating! You'll get my sexiest makeup this time. You won't be able to look at yourself with getting the stiffest dick on either coast. Lean back, dear."

When I came back to the house -- now that I had my own driver's license again, I no longer needed Bea to drive me -- Bea was impressed.

"Oh, my!" she said. "You really are dolled up, my dear Prissy. You'll need a stun-gun or a cattle prod in your purse from now on, to fight off your admirers. Seriously, dear, you look great. Just the look I want to see in my darling love-slave. Always love-hungry, always ready to go. I think your escorts from now on will love your look too. It promises so much!" Bea was right. They did. More of them requested my services than ever. I felt so desirable, and I loved the feeling! Really, I was a happy girl, serving my mistress, and serving my men, and doing both jobs well.

Chapter Seventeen: Wedding Present
(in which our heroine finally finds out why she is as she is)

As Bea's birthday neared, I was wondering what I could do to surprise her. But as usual I needn't have worried, because she had a whole bag full of surprises prepared for me.

She suggested that to celebrate her birthday, and mine too, because a year ago Henry had been reborn as a woman, we should go together to that love-resort she had first urged me to go to with her.

"When I went there the last time, all I could take along were your pictures. This time I want you to come with me, and of course you will. I'm sure you'll like it. I'll see to it that you get as much sexual pleasure as your little heart may desire, in every form, manner, and quantity. What you'll desire will be, of course, what I desire for you."

This time I had no reason to stay home, and I agreed to accompany her. And as usual, when she had my consent she revealed that I had committed to more than I realized..

"You'll meet a lot of interesting people there, and I promise you'll be able to suck and fuck to your heart's content. You'll love it. We'll go there next week-end. The occasion will be special then -- the theme will be 'Masters and Slaves'. Everybody has to come dressed as one or the other, and of course you'll come as my love-slave. I'll find something suitable for you to wear."

Friday, after I had cleared from lunch and cleaned the kitchen, Bea was waiting for me in my room. "I've already packed everything you'll need, Prissy. Now just get yourself all cleaned up again, and make yourself pretty, and be sure your pussy is ready for action, and quite slippery. Here, use this instead of a butt plug."

She handed me a dildo, not the very biggest in our arsenal, but quite long and life-like. It was the one I favored when I was horny and Steve wasn't available to service me. My asshole and that dildo were old friends, comfortable together. I was a little apprehensive about sitting on it for the whole drive to the hotel, but I thought I'd manage.

When I came out of the bathroom Bea had already dressed herself. She wore a long sleeved dark blue dress of shimmering heavy silk, cut much like a double-breasted coat, with a big collar framing her shoulders and a plunging neckline revealing almost all of her magnificent breasts. The dress followed the lines of her body down to her ankles, and was held closed by four large Rhine-stone covered buttons. Her feet were shod in four-inch pumps made from the same silk. She looked simply stunning, and I just stood there, rapt, a devoted worshiper.

"Well, you seem to like it," she said with a slight smile. "I do want to look especially nice for when we get there. It's really very practical too." She unbuttoned the dress and opened it, and I saw she was stark naked underneath, except for her sheer nylon stockings with lace self-garters. I rushed to her and planted kisses on both of her erect, large nipples, sucking and playing with them with my tongue. She stood there and enjoyed it briefly, then declared, "Enough of that now," and she pushed me back. "This isn't really for you. We must dress you as my slave, my dear, and get going." She closed and buttoned her dress again, and again looked regal, nearly unapproachable.

My slave outfit was rather interesting. First of all she laced me into a stiff and narrow corset which raised my breasts and brought them together to form a narrow, deep cleavage, but left them entirely free for anyone to reach and handle. It was somewhat longer in front than in back, and left my butt as exposed as my breasts. After she had knotted the laces in front she fastened my wrists to my backside with some wide straps, one to each cheek. Similar straps clamped my upper arms together, and when she had finished I found I couldn't move them, though their bondage wasn't at all uncomfortable. She made me sit down, and rolled up my thighs some very sheer seamed nylon stockings, which she then fastened to my corset garters. Then she put on black sandals which consisted of just a few straps, a thin sole, and six inch heels, the highest heels I had ever worn. My dark red toe-nails could be seen through my stockings. Around each of my ankles she fastened anklets made of thin spring steel covered with suede leather, that each closed with a flat golden lock, and that were connected with a golden chain about eight inches long. She made me get up and try to walk. It took quite some balancing even to stand. The fact that my arms were so tightly bound behind my body made it even more difficult, and like a person on stilts I had to shift my weight between my feet constantly. When I tried to walk, I found I could manage only very small steps. Then she put a collar around my neck similar to the anklets. It closed in the back and sported a golden ring in front.

Finally she brought out my dress. Black velvet, just stunning! I had trouble stepping into it with my feet hobbled so closely together, but when I had succeeded and she began pulling it up, I found it was ankle length, with a narrow hobble skirt. It was so tightly cut that it showed off my narrow waist to perfection. but even more, it showed off my butt and my breasts, which were left completely uncovered. After Bea zipped it closed in back, I turned before the mirror, and saw that it had cleverly draped material in back which disguised the fact that my arms were bound inside it. I looked like a woman with no arms. Seeing me looking so elegant and yet feeling so helplessly bound thrilled me immensely.

I turned and primped before the mirror a few times, until Bea said "Enough self-admiration now. Come on, we have to leave." With that she snapped a golden chain leash to the ring on my collar, and started leading me out. I had trouble following her in the high heels, the tight skirt, and the hobble. Negotiating the stairs was really difficult, and Bea had to help and steady me.

"But I can't sit in the car with bare breasts!" I said.

"I know," Bea replied. "Don't worry for now. But remember, if I should decree that my slave will sit in the car stark naked, then that is what she will do. And she will be proud of her nakedness, because it will be what I wish for her!" She picked up a large silk shawl from a chair and put it around my shoulders, knotting it over my breasts and spreading out the ends. "Now if you sit very still, you'll stay covered." We appeared to be two elegant women in evening clothes sitting in the car, and truck drivers looking down at us smiled without hooting or whistling.

During the whole trip I was in constant fear that the shawl would slide down and expose me, but it didn't, and we arrived without any embarrassing incidents. At the big gate to the hotel's grounds Bea just nodded to the gate-keeper, who seemed to recognize her, and opened the big wrought-iron gate to let us pass. I wondered whether Bea had been back here during those many unexplained stays away from home, when Steve had kept me company. I couldn't see why. I was eager to give her all the sex she wanted, though she didn't seem as eager with me. Whatever my speculations, after a short trip we arrived in front of the main building.

Two young men dressed as Roman slaves opened our doors and helped us out, then opened the trunk and carried our luggage into the hall. Bea took off my shawl. Now there I was, in a long, narrow black velvet dress with my breasts fully exposed. I was so embarrassed! Yet people coming and going in and out of the lobby scarcely glanced at me. Nobody seemed to think it anything extraordinary, though I noticed a few appreciative glances from men as well as from women. Bea then took my leash and led me hobbling into the lobby. She didn't go directly to the reception desk, but instead tugged me to the middle of the lobby, where there stood a thick pillar artfully decorated with flowers. She hooked my leash to the pillar, to one of the decorative bronze fixtures circling the pillar to hold floral decorations. And then she left me there, unable to do anything about it. I waited a moment, then hobbled around the pillar to see where she had gone.

Suddenly I thought I was looking into a mirror! There facing me was a woman who could have been my twin! She was wearing the same dress, the same sandals, the same ankle-chain, and also the same dramatic make-up I had requested from Celeste, and the same hair-do in the same blonde color! She was fastened to a hook on the other side of the pillar with the same kind of leash leading to the same kind of collar. Her breasts were as fully exposed as mine, and they were pierced by the same kind of nipple rings, complete with the same diamonds as mine.

I was shocked -- was I dreaming? The only difference between us was that she was wearing a black ball-gag in her mouth. And, I suspected from her dainty features, that she was not a recent convert like me but had been born a woman,

When she saw me, she was not at all surprised! She nodded, and seemed to smile. Who was she? Did she know me? Did she expect to see me? In no way could this be a coincidence -- two women in absolutely the same get-up leashed to the same pillar at the same time in the same place! This was planned! I realized at once that it had to be well-planned, weeks in advance, for our dresses and bondage gear to match. No, I realized with awe, months in advance, so that even our nipple rings matched!

What was happening? Where was Bea? I glanced over to the reception desk and saw her completing the registration forms. Then came another shock! She turned, and recognized a man standing next to her. He was a man of commanding presence, with a large, handsome face and an aura of hidden strength, powerful, well over six feet tall, looking imposing in his black tuxedo with a black tie. She broke into a warm smile, his arms encircled her waist and hers encircled his neck, and they embraced, and pulled each other close together until their bodies and faces blended into a long, deep kiss that went on and on, and grew more passionate as they twisted their bodies more tightly into each other. A minute passed, and then another. Finally they broke off, and still holding each other, looked entranced into each others' eyes. Not a word spoken between them. They seemed to need none!

Never in all the years of our marriage had Bea ever greeted me like that! Who was he? Why was Bea kissing him so intimately? How long had they known each other? Finally, the man turned, and with a slight hand gesture signaled the Roman slave boys to take away our bags. They hustled to comply. Then with his arm still around her waist, he guided Bea over to where we were standing and watching the entire scene. .

Bea saw me staring at her with my eyes and mouth wide open, and her eyes gleamed mischievously. But she said nothing. Instead she greeted the woman next to me with two light kisses on her cheek, "Hello Eva," she said. "Had a good trip here? You've already met Prissy?" The gagged woman nodded to both questions, and Bea took her leash off the hook, turning to the big man, who had just taken my leash in hand. "Thor," she said, "this, as you can guess, is Prissy, once upon a time my husband Henry. Didn't he turn out well? He's so very pretty now! And as you'll see, Prissy is beautifully trained." Then looking at me, she said, "These are Eva and her Master Thor. You may remember, I mentioned them a while ago."

I didn't recall having heard of them, and my face must have shown it.

"When I first came here, a year ago, I told you about the wonderful night I had spent with Thor, and I told you that he had a fully trained slave, Eva. I wanted to share my pleasure with you, remember, so I let you suck Thor's cum from my prettiest panties, all night. Don't you remember, dear?"

Now it came back to me -- she had mentioned a couple where he was master and she the slave.

"Now don't you want to greet them properly?"

I curtsied nicely to Thor. "How do you do, Thor," I said. "I am pleased to meet you." Then I curtsied to the gagged Eva and said "Eva, I am delighted." Eva nodded slightly in recognition of my curtsy.

Thor then pulled me towards him with the leash and kissed me on my lips, his tongue forcing itself into my mouth. It was so powerful and at the same time so thrilling that my knees began to weaken. Never had I ever met a man exuding so much power. I could well understand Bea's passionate kiss of a moment ago. He steadied me with one arm. Then breaking off his kiss, he commented to Bea, "We're running late. The show begins in about 30 minutes, and we have to hurry through dinner. I have already ordered, so dinner should be ready. Shall we?" He offered Bea his arm, and they each proceeded into the dining room, each with a slave on a chain in tow.

We entered a rather dark room that was laid out in a half circle around a darkened stage, and were met by a pretty hostess in thigh length boots with spike heels, a gleaming leather corset, and shoulder length gloves. She led us to our table in the center of the room. "Two persons, two slaves? Will that be all tonight?" she asked.

"Absolutely. Thank you, Clarisse."

"I wish you an enjoyable evening, Madame, Sir. The waiters will be here in a moment to serve you," and with that she took off.

She paid not the slightest attention to Eva and me. The little table she guided us to had only two chairs. Thor and Bea sat down. I was unsure what to do -- to look for more chairs, or wait till they brought us some? A sharp tug on my leash brought me back. Thor pointed to a little cushion in front of him. Was I supposed to kneel there? A second sharp pull and the fact that Eva was already kneeling in front of Bea made his intention quite clear to me. I sank to my knees. Bea meanwhile unbuckled the strap that held the ball gag in Eva's mouth, and pulled it out. "Just so you understand the rules, Prissy," she said to me, "You are not allowed to speak unless you are asked a question, or unless you first ask permission. But I think tonight you would do well not to ask anything. Just observe and learn, and use your mouth as your Master wishes. As Eva will with her Mistress."

I was kneeling in front of this man, and sent a questioning look over to Bea, but she ignored it. Kneeling, my arms bound, my ankles hobbled, my feet shod in sandals with six inch spike heels, this powerful man holding my leash -- I saw no way out. Even if I were to get up and run, run where? Bea was sitting at her ease. Obviously this was all planned. I had nobody I could turn to, and I was afraid that if I spoke up at all, I would end up with the ball-gag strapped into my mouth that Bea had just taken from Eva.

The waiters came and served dinner -- for two. However the portions were large and we slaves were fed by our masters from their plates, and we were even allowed to sip some of the champagne they were drinking. When I looked around, I saw a lot of tables just like ours, with masters sitting in chairs and slaves at their feet. Eva and I could consider ourselves lucky. Some of the other slaves were gagged and couldn't eat, or served as foot-stools for their masters and lay face down on the floor.

When dinner was finished, a gong was sounded and the waiters hurried to collect the dishes, as the show was about to begin. I was curious what kind of show they would have. Would it also have to do with "Masters and Slaves"? Thor was facing the stage and I was kneeling in front of him, with my back to the stage. I tried to shift my position so I could see the stage too, but a powerful tug at my leash prevented me. "You are not here for your amusement, but for mine," Thor said as he pulled down his fly zipper and took out his cock.

It was big, but not enormous, and it was long. It was about the same size as the dildo still pressed into my ass. I knew what he expected, and I started to lick and suck on this wonderful cock. Thor and Bea exchanged glances, I thought, but it was difficult for me to see, so I couldn't be sure. "I want you to lick and suck my cock through the entire performance, but don't make me cum," he said. Then he repeated, "Did you hear me? You will pleasure me but not make me cum. If you should disobey and make me cum, you will regret it. Understand?" I nodded several times, deeply, his cock sliding between my lips, in and out of my mouth, and I nearly deep-throated him. Thor gasped. "Very good, Prissy," he said. "You'll get to swallow my cum later, but no matter how much you may want to, not now."

The show started and I saw nothing. I noticed there were light changes, and some sounds coming from the stage -- I heard a whip crack a few times, and some sighing and groaning, and some heavy breathing. And I heard the audience's reaction to what was going on on the stage. Sometimes it was absolutely quiet, the audience's tension palpable, then a sigh of relief would go through the crowd and applause came up.

The whole show must have lasted for more than an hour, and all the time I was sucking and licking Thor's cock, always being careful not to excite him too much. That was no easy task, because he was excited not only by what I was doing, but also by what he saw on the stage. Several times I had to interrupt my ministrations completely, and two or three times I even had to cool him down by blowing air on his engorged member. He seemed to like what I was doing, because several times he patted my cheek or stroked over my hair. When I was able to glance sideways, I could see Eva similarly engaged, her face plunged into Bea's crotch.

Finally the lights came on after what must have been an impressive finale, to thunderous and sustained applause. Thor motioned for me to sit back, and replaced his cock in his trousers. He then took the ball-gag from the table and told me to open wide. In a second the gag filled my mouth and was fastened behind my neck. We all got up and left the theater.

On our way out Thor said to Bea "I must congratulate you, my dear! Prissy is a lovely cocksucker, very well trained indeed. Of course she's been practicing regularly for a year now, given the opportunities and inducements you've provided her. But she exceeded my expectations. It seems to be true that she-males make the best cock-suckers, because they remember what they liked when they were males."

"The other way around it's the same," Bea said. "Cunnilingus by a male can never equal the cuntlapping of a female. I think your idea that we exchange our slaves has worked out beautifully thus far."

We went through the lobby and to the elevator. Nobody took the slightest notice of the two bare-breasted, armless female slaves, led by their masters on leashes, mincing in tiny steps behind them. What we were all four doing together began to seem normal to me, even rather ordinary.

When we got to our quarters, I saw we would be living together in a three room suite, with two bed-rooms with baths and a living-room between them. Thor pointed to a soft rug in front of a large sofa facing a fireplace. I understood and knelt on the spot. He placed his palm on his forehead for a moment, and then swept his hand down, palm down, looking into my eyes to see if I understood. I did. Immediately I bent way over and placed my forehead on the rug, then continued to kneel with my head way down and my rear end high up.

"Very good, Prissy," he said. "You show signs of intelligence as well as obedience. Keep that up, and I'll see that your ass is filled with something nicer than a dildo before morning." I heard him get out a bottle of champagne from a cooler, open it, and fill two glasses. He motioned Eva to sit beside him. Bea returned from the bathroom and sat down on the sofa on the other side next to Thor. He handed her a glass of champagne, took one for himself, put the bottle in the cooler, and sat down. He was in no hurry.

"You must be wondering what is happening now, why you are here, and who we are, and why we are here. I'll tell you all you need to know. And if I forget anything, Bea can fill you in. In fact, I think Bea should start, because she started all of this. This beautiful moment is her creation."

Bea stared at me silently for a moment, preparing herself to say things she had kept hidden from me for a long time. Then she began.

"Remember," Bea said. "Remember when Henry was still alive, and I was married to him? And his notion of an evening with me was sitting and watching football on the TV while I read a book? And we had nothing to say to each other, and made love without thinking about it, when we remembered to make love at all? Well, Henry was too dull to know it, but I was getting ready to leave him. I know he was thinking about exchanging his wife too, for a younger one, hoping she could renew his youth in some way. We were married from mere force of habit."

I kept my body very still, my forehead pressed against the ground, my eyes shut, though no one had told me to shut them. I wanted to hear every word, every innuendo.

"Henry was loveable in his way, but he lacked strength of character. He had been taught that a man's position in a marriage should be to lead, to take charge, to be aggressive, but he simply wasn't built for it. He was a natural nice guy, but a wimp. Of course, when we married, neither of us knew that. What do you know of life when you are barely 20? Nothing. So for many years we thought we were happy. And in our innocent little way, I suppose we were. We didn't know there was anything else."

"Then I met Thor, and it was like being struck by a thunderbolt! We saw each other at a literary reception for a lecture series he had endowed, at a local college. And even though we were the guests of honor, a half hour later we were in bed together making love furiously, magnificently, tenderly, delicately, overwhelmingly! Oh! Gorgeous!" Bea paused, obviously remembering that time again in great detail. "We had scarcely spoken. We didn't need to speak. We instantly understood each other! We were instantly in love with each other! And we have been ever since!"

"Immediately I knew what was missing from my life. He was so powerful, so decisive, so strong. I knew that I was like him, that a dominant nature was buried deep within me too, but covered up by misconceptions of women's proper roles. Thor brought it out. I decided I wanted to live my life with Thor. My marriage to Henry ended in that bed that first evening, though Henry as yet had no idea. He was too attentive to his Monday Nite Football programs to notice. It went on another year, as previously, but meanwhile Thor and I saw each other whenever we could, wherever we could, for as long as we could. Our relationship strengthened, and grew more profound. There were times I came home covered with the smells and fluids of Thor's body, and filled the house with its aroma, because I wanted him close to me as long as possible. Henry never noticed."

"Now, you should understand that Eva is not Thor's wife. He inherited her. Eva is the daughter of a wealthy and powerful industrialist, and Thor was adopted by this man to be his son and sole heir, to inherit factories, shipyards, banks, and many other enterprises when Eva's father died. Thor has inherited them, and great power over thousands of lives and millions of dollars. He uses this power well. But he also inherited Eva, and the problem of caring for her."

"You see, though she was raised with every privilege, Eva's nature is naturally suggestible. She loves to do what other people tell her, to obey almost anyone, and several times while growing up she fell under the influence of the wrong kind of man, a sadist who tortured her once, and once a psychopath who drove her toward self-destruction. So on his death bed, her father made Thor swear to look after her, because she would never be able to look after herself. And Thor has done just that. He trained her to become his eager and devoted slave, a woman who will do anything her Master requests, and whose sole happiness is in fulfilling her Master's requests.

She is blissfully happy to be Thor's slave. You'll have ample opportunity to find that out for yourself, because Eva is also a woman of extraordinary intelligence. Eva and Thor share a rare kind of love for each other, a mixture of affection, gratitude, and respect, a true love that only Masters and slaves can experience. The kind of love we too will develop in time, Prissy, as you allow your own deeply submissive nature to emerge and flower, and allow me and Thor to become your only reason for existence."

"When we first fell in love with each other, I told Thor I wanted to bring Henry into our relationship. Eva was already there. I met Eva and saw how submissive she was, and I detected many similarities between Henry and Eva. I talked with Thor about it, and he told me first to put Henry to the test. I did, and it quickly became obvious that underneath Henry's pseudo-macho shell was a true submissive, eager to serve."

"The test was to find out how quickly I could feminize and humiliate Henry, with his consent, on some flimsy pretext. The pretext was that I wanted my fortieth birthday party to be celebrated by just a few of my girlfriends, and that I wanted Henry to be one of them. Well, Henry had no inclination toward transvestism at first, fetishistic or any other kind. But I persisted. I got him into women's clothes, and onto hormones, and using tampons, and walking, talking, and sitting like a little girl, then like a young lady, then like a woman who needs a prick shoved into her and can't wait much longer. As the months went by and my demands grew more outrageous, Henry fulfilled every one of them. Out of love for me, he thought. But clearly, it was more because something in him needed to satisfy me, that he wanted my approval, that he felt fulfilled in some way when he did whatever I asked. What little manhood he had disappeared. The climactic test of his submissiveness was to get him to spend the night in bed with a man while dressed as a woman, and to enjoy it as a woman, all on his own, as if he himself desired it, without my ordering him to do so. And Prissy, he did it. Henry loved it. You remember! We all remember our first time with a man. When I got home the next morning, it was obvious from the expression on your face that your life and your desires had changed altogether, for the better."

"But how would Henry fit into any relationship with me, Thor, and Eva if he were to move in with us when I moved in with Thor. Last year the three of us met here a week or so after Henry's gave me his birthday present, his night on the town dressed like a girl and fucked like a woman. We talked about how submissive Henry was, and whether he would consent to become my slave if I moved in with Thor, and whether Eva would accept him of her own free will. Even though Eva will do anything Thor asks, gladly, we were discussing a possible marriage, and in a marriage everyone should do what they most wish to do, and not consent merely to please others."

My forehead was still glued tight to the rug. I was listening intently, and I didn't dare move. For the first time in two years the universe Bea had spun around me was beginning to make some sense.

"I wanted Henry to come here with me so Thor could see for himself what I had done to him. He was still more effeminate than feminine, and not at all as pretty as Prissy, but he was already attractive enough to whore for Pearl. His subordination to my will was impressive, and I was sure I could persuade him to accept more of it. But Henry didn't want to come. And I didn't want to push him too hard too soon, so I didn't press him to come. Instead I arranged for Steve to continue his obedience training, and took some pictures of him looking girlish to show Thor and Eva. Eva was especially taken with them. She thought you looked just darling in your lingerie. I think she likes you, Prissy."

"It seemed a good idea, that if Thor had Eva as his slave, then I could have Henry as mine. You remember Eddie, the latent transvestite I told you about? Well, you remember that I brought him as my feminized slave to Thor's suite? Not feminized enough! Thor realized he could never tolerate another man in his house, even if the man was his wife's slave, like Eddie, and dressed like a woman. He was quite adamant about it. So, it looked as if there was no place in my future for Henry after all. I had ruined him ever to marry a trophy wife, by getting him to grow breasts, and getting him to like it when Steve fucked him. But I had to abandon him anyhow. I felt a little sad about it. But those were the breaks."

"Then Thor jokingly said something. 'If you had a female slave -- that would be different. I could even go so far as to accept a she-male slave. In fact, I hear she-males make very good cock-suckers. I might get to like that. But she will have to think she is a woman, and accept that she is a woman and not a feminized man.'"

"And he laughed. But in my mind a plan was forming already. I loved Henry for the good times we had had together, and didn't want to abandon him. The task I saw ahead seemed to be a real challenge for me. But I love real challenges!"

"So I asked Thor if he would take Henry in if I presented him as a fully transformed, well trained she-male maid, slave, and cocksucker. He said he would. He would even pay my costs, because making Henry into Prissy became very expensive, with all those clothes and medical bills. But I told him 'No,' I would arrange for Henry and the woman he'd become to earn and pay for everything themselves. A present is a present, and I told Thor that a trained, she-male cock-sucker would be my wedding gift to him. Of course I know that money means nothing to Thor -- his enterprises make more each day than hundreds of Thors could possibly spend. But we all have our pride. And a feminine Henry was to be my gift of love to Thor."

"He said he doubted that I would ever be able to succeed, that no man would ever let himself be used this way. But I took his dare and set out to transform Henry, always making sure he agreed to every new step he had to take. Well, my dear Prissy, the rest you know. I enlisted Kay's help, and her husband Steve's, and Pearl's, everyone who had helped me test out how far I could go with you. I told them only as much as they needed to know, but I suspect they guessed what I was doing, because they were so marvelously cooperative. Even Celeste, who has never been in on the secret. Then today came your final test, Prissy, and you passed it with flying colors. You are a true submissive, a true slave. We all welcome you among us. And tonight you have met your new master."

"You see, the dare I accepted from Thor was, if I could deliver you to him as a fully trained she-male slave, and without any explanation or inducement you would kneel in front of him among a crowd of people, and would suck his cock without even being asked, and would do it in a precise way specified, he would take you into our house. And Prissy, I am very proud of you. You did it!"

"Now I want you to raise your head and look into Thor's eyes and answer some questions truthfully by nodding or shaking your head."

"Did I use any force to transform you?"

I sat back on my heels and raised my head. Looking into Thor's eyes and answering her question was so humiliating. I thought about it for a moment. No, she really never used any kind of force during the whole time I was transformed. I shook my head.

"Did you agree to be dressed as a woman and become as feminine as possible, even grow breasts for that purpose, for my birthday party?"

I nodded. It was quite true. She had persuaded me to go along with her desires for this party, and I had agreed to everything she had asked me to do.

"Did you let Steve fuck you willingly?"

I felt a blush coming to my face when I nodded. Having to confess this to Thor was terrible.

"Did you willingly put yourself in bondage, strap a gag into your mouth, snap handcuffs on yourself, and ask permission to wear a butt-plug?"

I remembered how Steve had introduced me to bondage play and it was true, I had done all of this. I nodded.

"Did you agree to work for Pearl as a woman?"

Again I nodded.

"Did you ask to be turned into a woman permanently by asking to have permanent makeup put on you?"

I had to nod, it was true, I had asked for it myself, even if I didn't really foresee all the implications.

"When Pearl lined up all those men for you to suck and fuck as her company slut, did you do so willingly, to the best of your ability, and in between, did you keep yourself made up to look as sexy and seductive as possible?"

I nodded. I smiled to myself as I remembered how I would stop traffic every time my hips swivelled down the street on an errand for Pearl.

"Did you agree to be employed by me as my maid, and did you pay for all the maid's uniforms that we selected for you?"

It was only too true, and I nodded.

"Did you agree to have plastic surgery to even more feminize your figure and your face?"

I nodded -- it was true, although when it was done, I still thought it would be reversible.

"Did you go into competition with me for the attention of a man, and did you attract him and make love to him and enjoy it?"

I thought back to the wonderful time I had with Nicolai and I smiled again a little when I nodded.

"Did you agree to work as a high-class call-girl, servicing men, sucking their cocks and getting fucked by them for money?"

The blush crept to my face again as I nodded.

"And most important: Did you agree to have your cock fitted with a ring and did you then give me this locket with padlock and key asking me with the inscription to lock up your cock, thereby making you my complete slave?"

The way she put it, I had to nod, even when again I hadn't really known what I was doing. But to any outsider watching us, it would have been quite clear that I was asking Bea to lock me up and make me her slave. I nodded.

"And consequently, when I asked you to come here as my slave, you agreed again. True?"

With a deep sigh, I nodded again.

"Finally, to be clear about this, two last questions. When I began with you, when I asked you to become one of the girls at my birthday party, did you believe you were a man with a man's desires, and in no sense a woman?"

I nodded.

"And now, as you kneel here before us, do you believe that you are a woman with a woman's desires, and in no important sense a man?"

I nodded. Now I had told my wife's lover everyt