Whips, Chains & Wicked Women, Slutboy Stories

Erica’s Tale-1

Erica’s Tale

I couldn’t believe what I’d gotten myself into, and all to escape a stupid party. I’d thought I knew what humiliation was: having a bunch of girls making jokes about my inadequacies. No, humiliation was being dressed in knee-high stockings, saddle shoes, a pleated miniskirt and skimpy sweater, being coiffed and painted up like a slut and tied to the bed, waiting for the girl who’d just cruelly enslaved me to come back and do whatever she wanted to me.

Okay, it’s true I still felt a weird thrill at being made up like a girl. I don’t know why it turned me on, it just did. But the thought of being forced to live this way constantly, and to have to endure absolutely anything my girlfriend felt like inflicting upon me was horrifying.

Not as horrifying as everyone finding out about it though. It was bad enough they all knew I had a little d**k. If they all saw me made up like a slut, admitting that liked it and coming at the same time, I’d never be able to leave the house. Or so I thought at the time. But then the rest of that first night of the rest of my life saw changes to me and my relationship with my former girlfriend that made everything I used to care about moot.

After fifteen minutes or so she came back into the bedroom excitingly dressed up in my football gear and uniform: shoulder pads, helmet and all. Her hair was tucked-up hidden inside and she’d even stuffed the pants with something long and cylindrical to simulate having a big hard c**k. She looked as tough, broad-shouldered and masculine as I felt weak and feminine, and again I felt that shameful charge, that kinky turn-on at our switched roles. I even felt my recently spent p***s begin to get hard again. Straightaway Mistress climbed onto the bed, cleats and all, and reached under my skirt. She grasped my stiffening c**k, pinched and pulled it, and laughed softly at my helpless moan.

“What’s this? Girls aren’t supposed to have d***s! Not that I’d call this microscopic stub a proper c**k. More like an impotent little clit. I’m the one who’s got a c**k: a big, hard, manly erection! Want to feel it, slut?”

She yanked my legs apart, lifted up my skirt and lay down atop me. She crushed her crotch down into mine and started rubbing that big hidden bulge roughly against my comparably tiny erection.

I gasped in that insane arousal, and Mistress looking down at me through the bars of her facemask only inches away (she’d even put streaks of lampblack under her eyes) laughed grimly.

“Oh, yeah, you feel it, don’t you Erica? That’s what I call a c**k! Lift up your legs, slut-boy! Spread ‘em high and wide! I’m going pin you down and pound you to the bed like a stud does to a slut until you go mad with lust!”

I know she’d extorted eternal, unquestioned obedience from me, and that I had no choice in the matter. But choice didn’t even enter into it. I literally couldn’t help myself. I splayed myself eagerly open and yearned my crotch upward, feeling sexy, feeling slutty, feeling wildly perverse and impossibly turned on. Our panting breaths mingled together then as she began humping herself against me.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh!”

She hooked her hands over my shoulders and powerfully pumped her butt, simulating male-superior intercourse. Her hidden c**k crushed into mine, the coarse weave of her uniform pants roughly chafed its sensitive underside and her heavy weight felt somehow delightfully right on the insides of my thighs. “Slut, slut, slut, you disgusting little slut!” she chanted as she humped me.

“Yes, Mistress, Yes, Mistress, oh God yes!” I cried in response, thrusting my own butt rhythmically up, rubbing my burning hot c**k against that big exciting bulge. I couldn’t spread my legs wide enough; my balls were tingling and tightening in that telltale way that always precedes my moment of shame. And sure enough, after only a minute or so of being humped and pumped and rubbing our c***s together I couldn’t help myself. I cried out with release and ejaculated for the second time in under an hour.

This was shame and ecstasy and crushing disappointment all at once, for Mistress ceased our exciting copulation simulation immediately, just as I was most enjoying it. She rose up, kneeling before my spent genitals and split-wide crotch and sneering down at me with limitless contempt.

“You useless piece of trash! You were never any kind of man. You just proved it yet again. Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore. You’re nothing but a slutty f*****g she-male from now on. And your new owner is about to show you how f*****g is supposed to be done, slut!”

She unlaced the front of her bulging pants, revealing what she had for me. Harnessed about her waist and crotch was a hard rubber strap-on dildo. Exquisitely lifelike, four times the size of my own erection, this bobbed enticingly as she pulled it free. Mouth suddenly dry, heart pounding harder than ever, I could only pant and stare and feel my butt tightening fearfully up as she slowly stroked it.

“Prepare to be properly f****d, slut! I am going to slam my huge c**k up your slutty tight sissy-p***y until you’re reduced to nothing but a drooling i***t. You will learn what being a she-male slut is all about!”

I couldn’t believe it. Of course, this was obviously the logical end to which the night had been heading. Still the prospect was so shocking, so shameful, that I’d never even suspected it. Once again I found myself limitlessly appalled. And yet as Mistress produced a tube of lubricant and slathered up her impressive prick I found my perverted arousal somehow spiking up again. My secret slutty awakening femininity suddenly turned my insides into an aching emptiness desperate to be filled. Moaning with anticipation I squirmed in place, pulling at my bonds and stretching my legs out and up wider and higher than ever. I looked timidly up at my Mistress hulking above me, her helmeted head and armored shoulders impossibly intimidating. Her eyes and teeth gleamed in the shadows. And then she moved into place, aligning her glistening prick with my virgin entrance and preparing to take me.

Her strong hands gripped my hips. Her blunt tip kissed my opening and I shivered uncontrollably. Then she thrust forward, pushing into me and finally changing my life irrevocably.

How can I possibly describe that unprecedented penetration? Which conflicting feeling achieved primacy?

Was it the pain, so impossibly intimate and yet wonderfully welcome?

Was it the horrible humiliation of having the last of my vestigial manhood eradicated?

Was it the amazingly arousing excitement of truly embracing my new femininity to the fullest?

Was it the will-sapping sensation of finally realizing that I would indeed do absolutely everything in my power to endlessly ingratiate myself with my owner if only she would do this to me regularly?

All of these feelings competed and combined so potently in my body and psyche as that firm hard length drove deep up into me that I could only groan in helpless ecstasy. And then Mistress pulled back and punched up into me again, and again, in a brutal succession of soul-stealing thrusts that soon had me sobbing in an excess of emotional overload.

She f****d me, oh, Goddess, she f****d me and f****d me and f****d me, plunging her p***s so endlessly and relentlessly into my hungrily accepting sissy-p***y that I was truly out of my mind with the emotional intensity of it all. Hearing her shriek out repeated orgasms as she loomed over me and pounded down into me only exacerbated my maddened frenzy, until I was indeed drooling mindlessly, driven to oblivion by this utter s****l surrender. When she finally had her fill of me and pulled out at last, I could only lie there spent and shudder all over, looking dully up at this deity who had just so effectively claimed me forever. I could barely react at all when she then most appropriately put paid to any future p***s use of my own.

“I told you that you wouldn’t have to worry about performing any more, slut-boy. And I meant it. I’m about to cure your premature ejaculation problem permanently.”

She got off the bed and turned away for a moment. Then she came back, and in her hand was a tiny shiny steel contraption. She slipped this over my quiescent c**k and balls, inserted a key and turned it. I heard a chilling click, the key was withdrawn, and Mistress promptly threw it in the garbage can.

“There!” she declared. “Now you’re impotent. You’ve gone from coming too readily to never coming again. No great loss. And every time your banished manhood tries to assert itself in the form of an erection, you’ll be punished with great pain. That c**k cage you now wear is extensively spiked on the inside.

“Of course, punishment and great pain are a regular element in the life of every slave. Let’s see how you deal with your first whipping!”

As I said, I was so wasted with aftermath I couldn’t react despite the awful finality of this. It would take the next twenty years of agonized arousal and endless deprivation to truly bring the enormity of such a sacrifice home to me. In the meanwhile though, my Mistress had the perfect way to slap me back to reality.

She placed a big firm pillow next to my waist and ordered me to roll over onto it. Once I was straddling it, my freshly caged c**k crushed into its plush and my clutching crotch embracing it like my lover’s own impressively endowed waist, Mistress picked up the thickest of her discarded belts and knelt beside my elevated ass.

“Okay, slut-boy. It’s indoctrination time. I’m going to whip your ass in five-stroke increments. After each five I will spell out another aspect of our new relationship. At the end, if you have whole-heartedly and eagerly accepted each aspect of your new life, I will reward you by f*****g you over and over again for the rest of the night. If you demur in the slightest, I will instead hogtie you up tighter than you can believe and leave you lonely and suffering on the kitchen floor for twenty-four hours. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I managed. “I will accept anything to be f****d by you again. I worship you and your glorious p***s more than anything in the entire universe.”

“Good,” she smirked. “That’s a good start. To show that I have compassion therefore, I will allow you to alleviate the pain by giving you something to bite down on. You can respond to my instructions by merely nodding your head.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” I gasped. She nodded nonchalantly, and removed her beautiful c**k from the harness about her crotch.

“Open wide, slut-boy!”

Oh, Goddess, yet another shaming/exciting lesson in womanhood! Eagerly I complied, and right away she shoved her enormous manhood deep into my mouth.

“There you go, cocksucker,” she giggled. “Get used to it! I’m going to be f*****g your slutty little face just as much as your ass. But first we have business to attend to…”

Indeed! The first s***h of the belt across my ass wrenched a scream from deep inside me. My liberal parents didn’t believe in corporal punishment, and I’d been too popular in school to get in any fights. I’d been sacked dozens of times as a quarterback, even got my bell rung a few times. Still, there’s a vast difference between being manfully wounded in the heat of action on the field of battle and lying submissively beneath your female owner and allowing her to inflict terrible pain on you at her own whim and pace. She had me sobbing miserably by the third stroke, and desperate to placate her by the time number five welted my proffered backside.

“Okay, Slut-boy. It’s time to formalize our new identities. From now on you are Slut-boy Erica. That is your new title and first name. And I am exclusively Mistress to you – or perhaps Goddess, if you are feeling especially worshipful. Understand?

Most vigorously I nodded my head. This was elementary Mistress! In response she nodded perfunctorily back.

“Good girl. Now for six through ten…”

Again the belt sang, whipping wicked welts into my buttocks, wringing strangled screams from me and again birthing a desperate need in me to agree to whatever Goddess required. My butt-cheeks were flaming like a furnace by the time she reached ten, and I was struggling to remain coherent when she finally addressed me again.

“Are you listening, Erica? Are you ready for this? I’m about to validate your entirely pointless heretofore existence!” Tearing my mind from my agonized ass with a monumental effort, I nodded again.

“Good,” she gloated. “Here it is: you and I will be married as soon as it can be arranged. We will spend the rest of our lives together – high school sweethearts and all that. Except in this case you will be taking my last name, and legally changing your own to Slut-boy Erica, of course. Isn’t that the most wonderful news you’ve ever heard? Nod most emphatically ‘yes’ Slut-boy, or spend the night hogtied on the floor alone!”

There was something upsetting in there, something that rang a disturbing bell from before. But whatever it was, it was lost in the sea of agony in my ass and the rapture that overwhelmed me at the thought of Goddess f*****g my ass every night for the rest of my life as her legally sanctioned wife. I indeed nodded so emphatically that drool leaking from around her c**k in my mouth splattered all round.

“Good girl!” Goddess giggled again. “You’re halfway to getting f****d all night and for the rest of your life, Slut-boy. Hang in there – here comes five more!”

Those five were the worst yet. And yet Goddess’ words of encouragement enabled me to endure. And when she made her next pronouncement the other shoe dropped. Finally, too late, I understood her duplicity, the unalterable fact of my ineradicable debasement, and I at last gave up the phantom hope of any kind of quasi-normal public existence.

“Okay Erica, I hope you’re ready for this. You should have figured it out already, but dumb f*****g jock that you are, you probably missed it. In any case, here it comes: you are dropping out of school tomorrow. Not only that, as my new sissy-slave wife, you will spend the rest of your pathetic existence publicly revealed as a shameful she-male!

“You didn’t really think this could be kept a secret, did you? How naïve! In fact, since the moment I started recording this video, I’ve also been transmitting it, to the very party you were too ashamed to attend! They’ve all been watching your transformation all night long. In fact, I’m sure they’re still watching now! Who could tune out such an entertaining show? Face it, Slut-boy: you are now a sissy little Slut-boy forever! Your old life as big fake-stud tiny-d**k quarterback is over! Now face the webcam, smile a slutty little smile at the whole world, and finally truly accept your permanent public role as my sissy-slut she-male wife!”

Oh, Goddess, oh the horror, oh the gut-churning, endlessly debilitating, life-ending humiliation! Oh, how could I ever endure it? Sucking on Goddess’ c**k, feeling the flame of her lash on my ass and the cruel steel bite of her cage on my c**k, looking at her standing there tall and strong with a whip in her hand and a fire in her eye, what choice did I have? Looking the death of my former self in the face, I somehow forced a ghastly smile and nodded my acceptance of whatever my Goddess decreed. She laughed delightedly at that, a mirth no doubt shared most scornfully among everyone I’d ever known, and limbered up her whip again.

“Here we go, Slut-boy! Five last lashes before everyone watches you love getting viciously f****d up the ass again you outrageously lubricious little butt-slut you! Give your classmates something to remember besides the ecstatic rapture on your face as your slutty ass is rammed and crammed and slammed yet again! Show them you’ve still got some balls. Or have you always been a sissy little faggot at heart?”

Maybe. In any case, I did as I was told, and struggled manfully not to cry as the belt whaled away at me one last time. Only a few choked sobs escaped me even though the pain climbed to astronomical proportions by the time the twentieth blow fell. But at last she tossed the belt away, and informed me that in the morning I would have ‘Slut-boy’ branded on my swollen, blistered butt and tattooed onto my cheek, forever marking me as her personal property.

Somehow I quietly accepted even this ultimate horror. Goddess pulled her spit-slickened c**k from my mouth and reattached it to her crotch.

“Congratulations, Slut-boy. You’ve taken to your new life beautifully. And now comes your reward: a whole night of innumerable fuckings. I hope you enjoy our new s*x life as much as I do. Of course, I’m going to have to cuckold you a lot, since I still like taking a hard c**k myself, and yours is locked up forever. But rest assured, f*****g you will always be my favorite thing to do!”

With that she moved around behind me. In full view of the camera she spread my black and blue buttocks and drove her deliciously thick and slippery c**k brutally back into me. And oh, my Goddess, it was even better lying on my belly! As my implacable owner started f*****g me again with all of her divine passion and power I lifted my ass even higher to her and reveled in that impossibly sensual stabbing. It was all I had left to live for. And it still is, more than twenty years later.