The Degradation of Chris

By Ami Lamida
tieduptv@hotmail.com

 

 Chapter 3

 

The next day at school I was even more withdrawn than usual. Though I was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt as usual, I felt like everyone could see me dressed up like a little girl and could see the makeup that had been on my face just the previous day. Every time somebody would look at me for longer than a quick glance, I would get extremely paranoid and try to get out of their line of sight. Unfortunately, one such time was in the middle of science class, and I had nowhere to go.

The classroom was mostly rows of black lab tables with sinks, and stools to sit on. I sat in the back as usual, and people mostly ignored me – all except for a girl in the row in front of me, a few stools to the left. Her name was Tabitha. She kept glancing back at me with a look that I couldn’t quite read except it seemed kind. I had noticed her before, though she seemed normally to be a quiet, shy girl. Despite her shyness, she had a cute, little-girlish quality about her. Her fair skin was almost perfect and even seemed to glow slightly. She had long auburn hair, which was sometimes set with tight curls, other times done in an elaborate braid and tied off with ribbons or bows. She was short and had the budding curves of a woman, though not so much that most guys would take any notice.

I hadn’t ever talked to her, and as far as I knew, neither had anyone else. Normally she kept to herself and avoided the notice of others. But today it seemed she couldn’t keep her eyes off of me. And while normally I would have enjoyed the attention, today it just seemed to make me uncomfortable. Did she know something?

Class finally ended, and I slunk out of the door at the back of the room. I was well on my way down the hall when the shy girl must have caught up with me and lightly tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped. I hadn’t expected it, and when I turned and saw who it was I was at a loss for words. I just stared at her wondering what urgent news might have brought her out of her shell enough to seek me out. Did she know something? Was she about to "out" me in front of the whole school?

But all she said was, "Hi Chris." Then there was an awkward silence.

I recovered enough of my wits after a few moments to stammer, "Hi, umm…Tabitha."

She had seemed a bit nervous, but once I spoke, she smiled slightly and seemed to relax. "Chris, I know we haven’t ever spoken to each other, but I wanted you to know that if you ever needed someone to talk to, I’m a very good listener." Uh oh… "I just want us to be friends. People like us should stick together." What did that mean? "Well, I just thought you should know that."

I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t exactly want to find out what she knew. Before I’d even formulated a reply, she turned and walked away. I started to walk after her, but she disappeared around a corner and I thought better of it. It probably wasn’t a pot I wanted to stir.

The end of the school day came way too soon. The brief conversation with Tabitha seemed like a stoplight in the zippy Autobahn of time. Before I knew it, I found myself standing in front of the afternoon bus, with the bus driver saying, "Well, are you getting on or not?" I awoke from my trance with a start. I don’t know how long I’d been standing there debating whether to go home or not. The reality of yesterday’s threats finally sank in and I made the decision to get on the bus. Before I knew it, I was at my bus stop.

Suddenly I remembered what I had been told the previous day by my new "Mistress". I was to come to her house and bring my new outfit. BRING MY NEW OUTFIT!? I’d completely forgotten to clean it, and it had just been sitting in the box at home on my dresser. There was no time, and I was not about to test Mistress Monica on her threats if I didn’t show up. Maybe if I didn’t bring it, I wouldn’t have to wear it. Of course, I would be punished, but I hadn’t cleaned it, so I would be punished either way. So with some hesitation I slowly trudged my way to Mistress Tabitha’s house.

I found the address not too far from my bus stop. I almost chickened out at the door. Everything seemed so surreal, but I finally managed to knock. Several seconds passed and it occurred to me to run away and never come back. But the moment to act slipped past me and I found myself looking at Joe through a glass storm door.

As he slowly opened the door, he said, "Ah, that’s a good sissy. The mistress will be pleased." He saw my nearly empty backpack and said, "Maybe she won’t punish you too bad for forgetting your new little girl outfit." He had clamped his ham-fist around my skinny arm and led me, slightly ahead of him, down a long, narrow hall. I could see a large, open room ahead of us, but before we got to it, he turned towards a side door, and opened it. "This is where the slaves go," he said as he led me down a long, narrow staircase into an unfinished basement. The bare floor was concrete, as were the walls. The ceiling was just bare wood joists and plywood. As we got to the bottom of the staircase, I could see the walls were covered with various instruments of torture. There were several wooden crosses to one side, with a wooden "X" between them. There were many hooks in the ceiling beams, and something that looked like a winch. There was also a wooden table that looked like an old-fashioned rack, and a large wooden chair that didn’t look too comfortable. In the middle of it all was a large, black leather lounge chair atop a fancy rug. I assumed that is where the Mistress would sit while her grunt, Joe, would do all her dirty work.

I was led to a point just in front of that empty (thankfully) chair. Joe stopped me and ordered me to strip. While I was undressing, I noticed a small camera in the ceiling above me, pointing directly at me. Perhaps the Mistress was watching from another room. She certainly seemed to have prepared for anything.

After I stripped and was allowed to stand there awkwardly for a few moments, Joe grabbed me roughly by the wrists and attached some leather shackles to my wrists. The shackles were buckled and locked in place with a length of heavy chain attached to each. Then Joe hooked the chains to a few hooks in the ceiling, leaving me standing there on the tips of my toes. I was naked and helpless. Joe fondled my bare chest and butt for a few moments, turned an evil grin to the camera, then went back up the stairs.

I was left in that position for at least twenty minutes. It seemed like an eternity, and by the time I heard footsteps coming back down the stair I was aching from my toes to my fingertips. I had had to strain and keep shifting my weight to keep my toes on the floor and my weight off my shoulders. The footsteps had a definite "click" to them, and I knew that it wasn’t Joe who was coming. It was Mistress Monica.

My new Mistress was dressed the part this time – high-heeled, black leather ankle boots; fishnet stockings attached to leather thongs running down from a leather belt; leather thong panties; a leather bustier; a studded leather collar; and leather wristbands. I guessed then that she had been doing this for a while. Her long, strawberry blonde hair seemed to flow behind her as she walked, and her hips swayed hypnotically, but the look on her face was stern. I quickly had a full erection. She purposely ignored it as she approached me.

She crossed the room quickly, and reached up to give my nipples a hard turn. "Oww," I cried. "This is for forgetting your outfit." Then she grabbed my hair and gave me a stinging slap across my face. "And THAT is for forgetting your place. You have not earned the right to look above my ankle yet, sissy slave." I quickly looked at the floor.

She turned and sat down in the leather chair in front of me. She crossed her legs and leaned forward with her elbow on her knee and a hand on her chin. Her pose was as a queen in her realm, straight, regal, and superior. I remembered to look down at the floor instead of at her. "What should I do with you today, slave?"

It wasn’t a question I felt like answering, so I didn’t. Though I was shaking in my bindings with fear, there was a certain rush of anticipation throughout my body. She continued, "No ideas? Well, I have a few. In fact, I have been thinking about you all day. I even took the day off to go shopping for you – luckily, as you seem to have left your wits at home with your new outfit. I’m going to make you my best sissy yet even if it slightly inconveniences me." NO WAY! There were others? How long have Monica and Joe been at it?

"I think since you are a sissy-slave-in-training, you should be dressed appropriately. Training is hard work and you will be getting a workout." She reached for a bag beside the chair, and brought out a pink leotard and tan tights. "JOE!" she called. "Where is that idiot?" Almost on queue, I heard the door open and heavy, clumsy footsteps coming down the wooden stairs. Joe appeared around the corner. "Joe, you may proceed to dress Chrissy now." She held out the garments to Joe as if they were rags. Joe scooped them up and proceeded to kneel in front of me with the tights in his hand. "Wait! We mustn’t forget the preliminaries."

She reached into her bag again and removed a swollen looking dildo and two skin-colored mounds of silicon. She got up and went around behind me. I felt that familiar coldness of lube being applied to my anus, and then I felt the pain of the swollen-looking dildo being forced into me. "This is called a ‘butt plug’. You will wear it at all times in my presence unless I give SOMEONE ELSE permission to remove it." Then she brought the rubber-looking mounds around in front of me, and I could see they were breast forms. They looked fairly small for breasts. She removed some adhesive tabs and stuck the forms on over my nipples. "These are your temporary breasts. You will wear them until such time as yours grow to a decent size."

I was so shocked I forgot myself and stared her in the face. "WHAT??" That earned me another stinging handprint on my face. "Don’t forget yourself slave. You will do as I say, and if I tell you to grow your hair out or to grow breasts, you will. Besides, it isn’t as if you have a choice." She pulled out a syringe from somewhere in back of her and showed it to me. "If you want to avoid this needle, you can start taking the pills I give you. But this time you’ll get the needle so you will understand me." With that, she stuck me firmly in the ass with the needle. My butt clenched up from the pain and it seemed I could feel the butt plug squirm deep inside of me. Shortly it was over and Mistress Monica rubbed my sore ass cheek. "That will happen every day unless I start seeing some fast progress from the pills. You WILL grow breasts and you WILL become even more of a girly boy than you already are."

She stepped back and surveyed my nude body. She cupped the small breasts, and said, "Yes, those will do for now." Then she sat down, and without being told, Joe resumed dressing me in those tan dance tights. Then he worked the tight, pink leotard up my legs, releasing me from the ceiling long enough to get the short sleeves over my shoulders. The tights and leotard pushed the butt plug even deeper into me and I felt temporarily sick to my stomach. I looked down and had to admit I didn’t look bad. I had some curves now, and the tights made my legs seem to take on feminine lines. I didn’t have long to admire myself though as Joe hooked my sore arms back to the ceiling, though not as high. I could actually get most of my feet on the floor, though my heels were still somewhat raised. Mistress Monica pulled a few more items out of her bag and she commanded, "Joe, you will present the sissy’s feet to me."

Joe grabbed my left ankle and raised my foot up to Mistress Monica’s lap. Mistress Monica proceeded to put pink, silk ballet slippers on my foot and lace the long silk ribbon all the way up my calf, where they tied just below my knee. The other foot was done, and Joe put leather ankle cuffs on each ankle that matched my wrist cuffs. The cuffs were hooked together and then hooked to a ring in the floor. I was completely immobile with my heels just off the floor. My body seemed to be straining as hard as before because now I felt like I couldn’t quite keep my balance. At least the ballet slippers kept my feet warm from the cold concrete floor. In fact, I started warming up all over, especially in my groin. The leotard kept my masculinity held tight. Each time I’d shift my weight, I could feel the fabric straining slightly. It was a heavenly feeling.

The feeling was short-lived. Mistress Monica brought the final items out of her bag; a very curly red-headed wig, and what I can only describe as a torture hood. Joe put the wig on me and then opened the hood. I could see inside the hood was a short penis gag. I didn’t want that thing in my mouth, but strain as I might, I wasn’t going anywhere. The hood went on and the penis was forced between my teeth. It didn’t quite touch my throat when inserted fully, and that was a relief, but it did keep my jaws wide apart. The hood had eyeholes and I was able to see as it was fastened around the back of my now-red head. I heard a click that could only have been a lock securing the hood in place. I could breathe through my nose, but the tight leather hood constricted my face and made it difficult. Now my only choice was to look at Mistress Monica, since I couldn’t bow my head properly. She didn’t seem to notice as she grinned evilly up at me from her comfy chair.

"Look on, slave. I am the last sight you will see for a while." I felt a little tugging on the back of the hood. I quickly found out that it was a rope being attached. I felt my head pulled back as the rope was squeezed through my legs and wrapped and pulled tight around my waist. Now if I moved my head forward, I would feel the tug at my crotch. The rope was passed back through my legs and cinched up tight to the rope which was now digging into my waist. I could feel the tension of the rope on either side of my balls and up my butt crack. My penis was immobilized under that lycra fabric so my erection seemed set in stone. Joe continued attaching ropes; one around my knees, one crisscrossed around my small, fake breasts, and one that bound my elbows tightly together. I was drawn back to my toes as my elbows were drawn together. I imagined I probably looked like a ballet dancer trussed up in a graceful pose.

To my horror, the next item of torture was a blindfold – well sort of. The blindfold was leather and seemed to be a part of the hood as it buckled on. My sensory deprivation was complete…nearly, as I was about to find out.

I was finally left alone to hang there for a few minutes. The minutes drew out, and my thoughts played with the idea of what I must look like. Probably a full ten minutes passed before I felt the first sting from the riding crop. My whole body shook and the chains jingled in reaction since I wasn’t prepared for it. I wriggled in my bonds and I could feel the ropes biting into my crotch and waist. Nothing happened after that for a few seconds. Then I was cropped several times in succession. You’d think with all the strain I’d been through I wouldn’t be able to struggle, but Mistress Monica was right – the crop was a VERY good motivator.

The cropping went on for some time. It would stop for what seems like minutes and then renew again with fervor. The crop seemed to visit every part of my body that was accessible. Even my remaining masculinity took a beating, though my erection didn’t cease the whole time. In fact, between beatings I could feel my penis throbbing for release - not from bondage but from its building load of cum.

It didn’t quite happen though. The beatings eventually stopped and I was left hanging slack from my sore wrists. I didn’t hang there long before I felt the first gentle touch of the afternoon. It was a hand softly massaging my throbbing penis. It wasn’t enough to make me shoot my load, but it was enough to make my throbbing increase. After a minute or so of gentle touches, the hand wrapped as tightly as possible around my shaft, and I felt teeth take a gentle nibble on my sensitive head. I felt warm breath through my leotard and tights and then a slight wetness as a mouth and tongue probed my lycra-encased penis. It took about ten seconds of that and I felt my load finally expel. I felt the suction of whomever was down there trying to suck my cum through the fabric. A few more strokes on my penis later, and I was spent and left alone for a while.

I don’t know how long I hung there after that. Eventually I was released from the ceiling and my elbows untied. I was left to release myself the rest of the way. I removed the blindfold first. Some of the knots binding my crotch to the hood were tight. After about 20 minutes I had all the rope off and was stuck there with my ankles locked to the floor. Nobody was in the room. I couldn’t get the hood off since it was locked on. I just had to wait for someone to return. I entertained myself by playing with my erection.

It seemed like a long time before I heard footsteps again. It was Joe. He looked a little flush and I realized he’d probably been servicing the mistress. He removed my hood and unlocked my ankles. I just rested for a minute as he stared down at me. He smacked his lips, "Just look at yourself, sissy-boy." I saw him turn his head and I realized there was a mirror in the direction of his gaze.

I looked over, and sure enough – even without makeup, I was almost a passable teenage ballerina sitting on the floor hugging my knees. My member began to throb again as if I was somehow seeing an attractive girl. I realized I was. "Yep," Joe said. "Take off those slippers and the wig and leave them here. Everything else you can wear home under your clothes. The mistress wants you out of here in five minutes. You’d better be gone or I’m going to lock you in a closet for the night – to hell with what your parents will do if you don’t come home tonight."

He turned and started to walk away, but stopped short. "Oh yeah… you are to wear your new outfit to school under your clothes. I have ways of knowing if you don’t. Then return here immediately after school. Your training will be continued. Mistress will break into your house tomorrow and pick up your little girl outfit." Then he left.

I quickly complied with the Mistress’s wishes, though I would have liked to bring myself to climax again looking at myself in the mirror and then curl up and take a long nap. It felt good wearing my "workout" attire under my jeans and t-shirt. I had earned that outfit today. I wondered what the Mistress had planned for me tomorrow.

When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom to admire myself in my outfit. My parents must have gone out for the evening, which was typical. I rubbed my new silicon breasts and my penis and toyed with my butt-plug until I came again and again. I hate to admit it, but I was learning to enjoy my role as a sissy-slave despite the pain. Oh well, no pain – no gain…

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Ami Lamida. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.